She chuckled. She had nothing to say for herself. Very good. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. Couldn’t make head nor tail of that note of yours. You lie about your past all the time and you know it. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. "Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess.
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