’ ‘A pretty tale. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it. Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage.
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