The sisters sat until midnight in Igraine's room, talking long after Morgaine had fallen asleep, sucking on her sugar candy, her small face sticky and her hands still clutching it. Her smile was bitter when Laura finished. They must have closed up the house at Bar Harbor, and she's in townto buy clothes, Iris surmised, glancing at her watch. Nor does your son bear the Cranford name.
At least, in another five weeks. He's in a Broadway play. McKinley said tentatively. Nobodyanswered.
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