Part 6 He became quite sure, by a sort of accumulation of reflection, as the day wore on. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful. ” Anna measured out the coffee. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. ‘But it is entirely myself,’ she exclaimed aloud.
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