” She found herself trying to remember all the old tunes her mother had taught her, as they were bright as little stars. My heart would speak if it could, for it is very full. “I really had not thought about it at all,” Anna answered smiling. “And what on earth,” he said, “do you think the world is made of? Why do you think I have been doing things for you? The abstract pleasure of goodness? Are you one of the members of that great white sisterhood that takes and does not give? The good accepting woman! Do you really suppose a girl is entitled to live at free quarters on any man she meets without giving any return?” “I thought,” said Ann Veronica, “you were my friend. I get your side all right. Your life is like a funeral March.
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