’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. Manning told her he loved beauty, and extorted a similar admission from her; he then expatiated upon his own love of beauty. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. And Anna was conscious of a few moments of exquisite emotion. “Who did you live with before the Becks? I hear things. . “Too much sensibility and too cold a heart. So I undertook to protect her by keeping love out of her life, by crushing it whenever it appeared, obliterating it.
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