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nydus/The Quest of the Silver FleecePublic
Page 148 of 506
Table of Contents

XI. The Flowering of the Fleece

low, sweet melody of her fathers’ fathers, whereunto Alwyn’s own deep voice fell fitly in minor cadence.

Miss Smith and Miss Taylor, who were sorting the mail, heard them singing as they came up out of the swamp. Miss Taylor looked at them, then at Miss Smith.

But Miss Smith sat white and rigid with the first opened letter in her hand.

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