After dinner Ann Veronica went into the drawing-room with Miss Stanley, and her father went up to his den for his pipe and pensive petrography. Most of the tables were for those who smoked only and drank wine, but there were a few spread with tablecloths and laid for dinner. It hadn’t even been called Kentucky back then when the Shawnee still hunted deer over mossy hills and the smoke from their fires could still inspire terror. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. ‘Must be another of her lies.
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