Hetty, who had periods of lucid expression, put the thing for her from her pillow. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. Owing to this circumstance, Mr. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly.
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