” Anna glanced up. She heard their feet and muffled voices. . She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. “And for me it has been Pride and Pride and Pride! “I am the prodigal daughter. "How sweet these roses are! Shall I put them into water?" "Put them where they came from," replied Mrs.
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