THE BANSHEE’S COMB
picked up the package of tay from the floor, put it on the dhresser, an’ with a glad heart sthole out of the house an’ closed the door softly behind him.
Turning toward Chartres’ mill he lifted his hat an’ bowed low. “Thank you kindly, Misthress Banshee,” he says. “’Tis well for us all I found your comb this night. Public or private, I’ll always say this for you—you’re a woman of your worrud,” he says.
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