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Chapter 15 At The Old House
Word Count: 1576
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Released on: 11/11/2017
hey moved softly, as if fearing to disturb some unseen tenant of those bare and dingy rooms. Often they paused, and,
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Helen of the Old House
“Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields_.”