There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. " "If in my power—certainly. ‘I do not understand you. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly.
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