She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. I hated him. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. Horrible details recurred to her. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. ” “On the contrary,” Anna whispered quietly, “we met in a small boarding-house where I was stopping. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. He'll be here two or three days.
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