Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. She wondered wildly why she had stood up. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. ” “Well, perhaps it is a bit depressing.
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