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They fell in a diapason of smashes. ” “Thank you,” Anna answered coldly. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. Never be downhearted. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill.
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