For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. “I love you, Anna, and I want you for my wife. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. ” “But it is too late,” she declared. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved. ‘Well, if that’s what the good Lord wants, then you’ll just have to accept it.
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