She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. She didn’t trust Gianfrancesco, you know, she called him a ‘bad husband’. “Anna,” she cried, “you must believe me. ” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day. ” Anna measured out the coffee. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance.
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