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It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. Anna followed her finger, and looked back into her sister’s face. “Quite an unimportant one,” he assured her. Alas! that the punishment of his offences should fall on her head. So that way is closed. Then her head disappeared suddenly in her hands, and her shoulders shook violently. ‘Oh, we was always in there, miss,’ admitted Joan, moving closer. “There are a few fees. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. Maggot.

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