I could not dream of loving you. One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. “You don’t know him, Anna,” she said with a little shudder, “or you would not talk like that. The blades on the top spun faster and faster. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so.
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