She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. She had been obliged to wait all morning for the opportunity to talk to Martha, who chose always to retire to her cell for the period of recreation that preceded afternoon prayers. Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. It’s an emerald. You denied it, remembering that I had called myself Anna. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride.
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