” Mrs. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. I undid his coat, and I took it from his pocket. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. You denied it, remembering that I had called myself Anna.
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