You're luck. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. “I mean to go to prison directly the session is over,” said Miss Klegg. Fifteen from forty is twenty-five. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it. So I've grown hard—outside. He looked melancholy enough, it is true.
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