Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. He had need of all the inexhaustible energy of his character to support him through his toilsome walk over the wet grass, or along the slippery ploughed land. He recognised Anna, and at once addressed her. But I'm thinking of asking Josh Durkin. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much.
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