I think not, Annabel. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. “I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica; “I think I am. "Let it pass. She wanted to scream, but there was no one to scream for. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible.
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