Anna took up the pen, and signed, after a moment’s hesitation, A. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. “Didn’t you know he was married?” asked Miss Klegg, and was struck by a thought that made her glance quickly at her companion.
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