” Anna was thoughtful. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. He saluted awkwardly. His heart hammered in his chest. It was time to get up. His exploits and escapes are in every body's mouth. How can you say such things? You’re too young to be married, and realize this: you’re not ready. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. Her long arms handled the sword with a memorized ease and grace. Prudence.
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