“I came directly I was disengaged,” Anna answered. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me. ’ It seems that I was mistaken. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child.
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