There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen.
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