Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace. “I do not like to seem inhospitable, Anna,” she said hesitatingly. His spirits began to rise. They then clambered over a hedge, and scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house. “Are you in the Service?” She asked him. “Oh, Lord!” she said, discovering what she was up to, and dropped lightly from the fence upon the turf and went on her way toward the crest. Anna was having tea by herself when she entered. Hurrying on, his progress was soon checked by a strong door, several inches in thickness, and nearly as wide as the passage.
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