I saw her face and it was the face that had been hidden from me in dreams, a face very much like yours, Lucia. It’s not far from twilight. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. ” “You did,” Anna exclaimed. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. She laughed softly, and leaned across the table.
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