Her new husband was pleased to watch the astonished look on her face as tray after tray appeared on the grand table, each better than the next. Her own pack was so light that she left it in the locker. ” He started back as though he had been shot. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. By and by she heard the screen door.
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