” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. "England or France, London or Paris, it's all one to me, so I've you to command me.
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