” “How delightful!” exclaimed Anna. ” She thought more and more along that line. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. ” “I suppose not. And a broken picture that was torn when I hit him with it. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song.
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