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lier, she lacked merriness in her life. Perhaps, thought Holly, this was the first laugh for her compatriot in many a day. |
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And Holly was not one to just wonder why. She would see what could he done to help her new friend. |
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They climbed the steps at the edge of the common room. "These are the guests' quarters," Mariah told her. There was pride in her voice, as though she had an interest in how the inn ran. Holly knew she was just a servant, as she'd once been, but that kind of pride showed she was treated well. |
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Holly had earned her keep for that day, she had. Maybe there'd be an extra position here for her, till she could get her bearings, decide what to do now. |
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No glumness now, Holly, she told herself. Time enough for that. She looked at the rooms pointed out by Mariah. "Nice!" she couldn't help exclaiming. They were, too. The two rooms were spacious and airy, with beds and blankets aplenty. |
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Mack and she, and the other servants of Mr. Rice, though well treated, had all been crammed into a hut half the size of one of these rooms. Not that they'd spent much time there; there hadn't been much time for sleeping on Mr. Rice's farm. |
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Holly turned to see René, the Frenchman, coming up the stairs behind them. |
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"Pardon?" Mariah seemed unsure what he was talking about, but Holly knew. The floor downstairs was so clean he could serve bread on it. |
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Now, he was one her instincts warned her about. An arrogant blighter, was he. Hated all things English, including her. |
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That bothered her. He'd treated her kindly. She'd been aware of him hovering about while she slipped into wakefulness and out. But as soon as she could talk, he took to insulting her. |
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"Me, I've never seen the inn so clean downstairs," Frenchie said in that accent of his. Surprising, for such a nasty man, that he was so free with his thanks. |
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