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” “For what?” Lucy asked. She put a hand to the lad’s cold cheek and choked on a sob. He only laughed his defiance. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done. ’ His friend held it out of the way. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward.
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