” 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. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. ” “Nobody does that,” said Ramage, and kept silence for a moment.
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