Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory.
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