This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. ” Then she fell to thinking about her aunt. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. ‘I did not think so. “Who killed her husband?” “Go and nurse him, missus!” “Murderess!” Anna looked from left to right.
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