“Well,” she said, “good-night, father. “With your permission,” he said to Anna, “I shall arrange a bed for him where he is. "But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully. You shall know the truth. “You’ll get me to allude to it, but you’d have to torture me to admit it. Then he turned on his heel and walked off. She fidgeted and looked away.
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