He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. Three little letters can’t make a bit of difference. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. " The spinsters stared at her blankly. This is not true at all.
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