” “It might become one,” he answered. ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said. The imbecile. The rest of his attire was nondescript. On this I am resolved.
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