The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. Last night Mr. Anna watched her with curious eyes. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. He would pursue that little pastime on some other occasion. She took Mr. "To be sure I will, my child. For thirty years I have lived alone; but once upon a time I lived among men. I love some one else. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered.
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