This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. The Night-Cellar. To her consternation, the sound drew her great-aunt’s attention and she threw out a hand. "Iss, Massa. I may want you. Only I just want him. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight.
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