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Summer | Edith Wharton | |
Chapter VIII |
Page 6 of 6 |
The envelope bore her name, and inside was a leaf torn from a pocket-diary. DEAR CHARITY: I can't go away like this. I am staying for a few days at Creston River. Will you come down and meet me at Creston pool? I will wait for you till evening. |
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Summer Edith Wharton |
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