“I don’t believe there is one. I’m sorry. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. “Then I will do what I can,” Anna promised. He dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. Spurling had retired for the night. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty.
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