It was everyone's favorite meal. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders. I’ve never had a homemade Thanksgiving meal like that. She looked at him curiously. Committing him to the custody of the others, Blueskin, followed by a numerous band, darted in that direction. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls.
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