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AN ORCHARD PRINCESS



I


As Miles Fallon left the cottage, loitered down the red brick walk, moist with the morning dew, and stepped into the road, he looked undecidedly east and west. Eastward was civilization—and the Misses Ruggles pottering about their little garden; westward lay a deserted country road bright with sunlight and spring greenery. Miles turned westward. So did Bistre.

Bistre was a ferocious-looking white

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