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” “Where is your husband?” Anna asked. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. "You frighten the cull out of his senses. And, though it's a long time ago, I feel as sore on the subject as ever. ’ ‘From a convent? Even if I wished to do it, I could not. I'll have no such toast drunk at my table!" "It's the king's birthday," urged the woollen draper. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. She threw her arms around Rollo's neck and laid her cheek upon the flea-bitten head. She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear.
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