I called myself Anna. ’ Then she frowned. I ought to have gone long ago. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. ’ ‘Damn you, answer me!’ Her eyes flashed. We remember it.
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