The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. “We’re going to be found out someday. “Bring any new songs you may have. Nobody who cared. “No, John, you won’t understand. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right. ” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. “Anna!” she repeated.
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