I don't care how lonesome it is. ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. “Too bad to keep you waiting,” Annabel exclaimed. If she has no children, she goes on loving her husband; but he is no longer a man but a child.
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