“Don’t fence with me,” Anna cried fiercely. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper.
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