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. ‘Don’t try to turn it off,’ ordered Miss Froxfield. . The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. So the charge was dismissed. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. Previously to his descent he had left the nail and spike on the wall, and with these he fastened the blanket to the stone coping.
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