Twenty-one, twenty-two. Anna jumped into a waiting hansom. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. "Bess wouldn't bear a rival. "You forget that you promised me a kiss the last time you were here. "What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. Come with me, Langley, and bring the lantern.
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