“You poor thing. The elements were wrathful as their passions. Without realizing what she has done, she's made a dreadful mess of it. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. And when she went to sleep, then always Capes became the novel and wonderful guest of her dreams. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things. But with the morning, the glorious unstained morning the passion of living would stir even the blood of a clod. ” “I hope that you may,” Anna answered enigmatically.
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