” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. "Is it wrong, then, to surrender to good impulses?" "In the present instance, yes. ‘Merci, dieu. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. “Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began. If she delayed a day she would delay two days, if she delayed two days she would delay a week, and after a week things would be adjusted to submission forever.
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