"Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. “I look older. Why didn’t he die?” Anna sprang to her feet and walked restlessly up and down the room. "What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest. It would not burden him with any obligation. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. Wood in a sharp tone. No more scuffling.
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