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"Miss--," began a man with a ruddy face and heavy gray hair, as he stood in front of Tavia, almost an hour later, while a small boy relieved him of his great fur coat and cane. "I don't believe I have your name. I'm Mr. Akerson."
"I'm Octavia Travers," answered Tavia, looking straight into the brown eyes of Mr. Akerson.
"Oh, yes, you are the