“NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. It was the crowned queen of mountains in her robes of shining white. ‘I don’t want to hurt you any more. . I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. \" Cathy beamed.
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