That had taken her by surprise, and her tired wits had failed her. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. " The clock tinkled ten. ‘Until today. That is why I called myself Anna. I—I hurt myself. " Trenchard, meanwhile, whose gaze was fixed upon the boy, became livid as death, but he moved not a muscle. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side.
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