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PEYTON'S PURSE

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“Yes, I did. Have you seen your uncle?” Peyton said. “No; he hasn’t come home since he left in the morning,” Margaret said and gazed at Peyton’s face.

“Alright; you can go,” Peyton said. “Alright, aunt,” Margaret said and sauntered away.

“I’m sure you heard her. Have you tried his phone number?” Peyton said.

“Yes; I tried to contact him several times, but it wasn’t going through,” professor MacPherson said. “I am coming; I need to get my purse,” Peyton said. “Alright, Peyton,” professor MacPherson said.

Peyton stood up from the couch, she clutched her cup, sipped a little water and dropped the cup back on the table. She left the sitting room for her bedroom and soon returned to the sitting room, clutching her purse. “ I am sorry to have kept you waiting,” Peyton said as she walked into the sitting room.

“It’s nothing,” Professor MacPherson said with a smile. Peyton sat down on one of the couches,
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