Chapter VII MISS PELLISSIER’S SUSPICIONS “Anna!” Anna kissed her sister and nodded to her aunt. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. The cork came out with a loud pop, and Anna could not help wondering how it must sound to the patient little crowd outside. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. Martin said “Hi” to her in the halls every day now, a sure sign of trouble.
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