Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. How could you draw the curtain aside which hides the great and holy places of life—you, who have never loved?” “You have become French to the core,” she murmured. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter. Anna never knew whither it had led her— sometimes she had fears.
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