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Vol: 41, Issue: 3

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Betty Lartius
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STUBBLE LITTERED the rows where corn had grown sharp green and spiky last spring when Marlyss had gone up the hill to pick the raspberries that grew along the fence beyond. She'd gone there every year since they'd moved on to the place, enjoying a private sense of kinship with the women who had left her the juicy berries as a rich legacy from an earlier time when a house had stood there.