” She laughed. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. I do not even know his name. I—listen. Besides, I'm afraid her simple honesty will spoil any invented yarn. The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue. “With regard to the conditions I mentioned,” Sir John continued, gaining a little confidence from Anna’s silence, “I think you will admit that they are not wholly unreasonable. At second hand it would be unendurable. .
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