She turned towards the door, and had taken a pace towards it when it was flung open. The young fellow was almost as odd in his way as the girl was in hers. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. "To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly. ‘You are rude, and stupide, and altogether a person with whom I do not wish to speak. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. I called myself Anna. “You do not quite understand,” she said gently. ” A dull flush burned upon his cheeks.
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