Perhaps I deceived you about it. What you did is called manslaughter, and at the worst there is only a very slight penalty, nothing to be frightened about in the least. ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes.
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