The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. Anna left the room on tiptoe. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. " She kindled with sympathy. ” “Well, fuck you too. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. See, it is on my cards—M.
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