My heart misgives me. . The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. I don’t conceal it. ’ ‘You would speak of the house?’ ‘Many’s the time little Miss Mary would say her papa meant for her to have it, she having no brothers and sisters at all—when we played together I mean, she and me and Joan Pottiswick. The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. “But, my dear!” said Ann Veronica’s aunt.
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