“It’s his birthday. “Where am I?” he muttered. "I'll make sure work this time," he added, about to repeat the blow. “But was it wise to sing to-night?” “Why not? The man was nothing to me. “You did not wish to see him particularly this evening, then?” Anna hesitated. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold.
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