Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. " But seeing that no notice was taken of the retort, he drew a little aside, and folded his arms, muttering, "This whim will soon be over. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. ‘Champion?’ ‘The lad you saw following her. ” Anna hesitated. “I’m not that beautiful.
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