His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. “I want,” he said, with a white hand outstretched, “to take you out to tea. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. Mr.
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