Martin came to the door, looking radiant and relieved. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. That is what marriage is to most young women: the ultimate escape from the family, from the unwritten laws that govern children. No; she'd never go back. You say I know nothing. A young woman with a white badge on her arm stood and counted the sections as they entered their vans.
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