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24. CHAPTER XXIV (continued)
Another touch, and the account of her day is finished. They entered the garden for a minute, and to Mr. Wilcox's surprise she was right. Teeth, pigs' teeth, could be seen in the bark of the wych-elm tree--just the white tips of them showing. "Extraordinary!" he cried. "Who told you?"
"I heard of it one winter in London," was her answer, for she, too, avoided mentioning Mrs. Wilcox by name.
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