She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. . This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. My name is Annabel, not Anna. He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool of himself.
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