“I will tell you all that I know,” Anna said. ‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. ‘Damnation! Too late. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture.
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