Anna stared back at every one with undaunted composure. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. Guiding this man of hers over the troubled sea of life had engraved these lines. Trees were torn up by the roots; many houses were levelled to the ground; others were unroofed; the leads on the churches were ripped off, and "shrivelled up like scrolls of parchment. He did not love Ruth. But it was hopelessly hard to put. He did not like it.
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