I overlooked the mechanical imperfections of your work, the utter lack of finish, the crudeness of your drawing. She is in the hall now. But, if you have come to surrender yourself to justice, it is well. He did not spend more time with her. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. Anna herself opened the hall door. He watched her, savoring her curious attention.
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