She peered into the darkness. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. Do you know anything of his friends? Is there any one for whom we ought to send?” “I know very little of him beyond his name,” Anna answered. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. In the retrospect she was amazed to think how things had gone to pieces, for at the outset she had been quite prepared to go home again upon terms.
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