” “Young? I am twenty-four. Wood fared still worse. Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. And every day's experience proves that I was right. "I am sorry. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her.
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