At the head of the cart was placed the coffin. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. “I like your brother better than any other man I know,” Anna said at last. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. It could not be a legal marriage. The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity.
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