’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. “Sold again,” she remarked. “What did you say?” “Well, I considered myself justified in denying it,” Anna answered drily. I tried painting and couldn’t get on. Supposing they find you and take you away?—and she unprepared? Have you thought of that? Why did you marry her?" "God alone knows!" "And you don't love her! What kind of a woman do you want, anyhow?"—with rising anger. They were the same.
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