She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. I don’t wish to marry you at all. I have always loved you. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. Even that he was an interfering person, if he walked through that door this moment, she would fling herself at him and weep all over his chest. “You are very stupid, Anna,” she said.
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