Further on, there was a small chandler's shop, where Jack observed an old woman seated at the counter, attended by a little girl. “I really had not thought about it at all,” Anna answered smiling. “You’re kidding, right?” “Not kidding at all. I don’t think of you as a kid. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way.
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