Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. On that basis alone, he had no right to give or accept love. \"Just fine, John. Jolly hard life for a girl, getting a living. She had worried in fear that the excitement would be too much for him.
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