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“It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. "Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons? Not I. “Anna!” he exclaimed hoarsely. “All the time he is shouting and muttering. October arrived; and in another week the court would be sitting at the Old Bailey. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat.
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