" Mr. Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna.
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