" "I'm sorry. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. —Though if my name should become as famous as theirs, it wouldn't much matter. Anna stared back at every one with undaunted composure. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit.
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