Bête, she told herself fiercely. If the creator drew a hero anything like himself, she would accept it as a sign that he did care a little. He came along, he said, just to call, with large, loud apologies, radiantly kind and good. “For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. " So saying, he violently shut and locked the door. I saw him ride away with that other fellow. Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her.
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