When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. She saw it, and checked without thinking. " "Could I credit your wild story, I might do so," returned Thames, with a look of perplexity. “Okay. " "Odd's me! do you think so?" cried the host of the Trumpeter. “Get out of the car. A town called Foster. Manning called. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. “My dear Anna,” he answered.
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