‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open. I suppose I believe in God. Just dreamed—and ran away even from my dreams. But it was her proof. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. Suddenly a half stifled exclamation broke from Anna’s lips. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable.
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