Her faculties seemed for a moment numbed. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. These convulsions occurred when Ann Veronica was about twelve. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement.
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