“I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. I could not become an Oracle. It was—in connection with this man Hill. Every one looked at Anna. When he was concentrating, deep shadows formed under his gray eyes. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. In other respects, they were equally indecorous and offensive.
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