The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. She observed a man walking on the opposite side of the way and looking toward her. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful. And who is the man you are not allowed to marry? Valade, perhaps?’ ‘Dieu du ciel,’ exclaimed the girl, jumping up. There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes. It wasn't worth while to invest imaginatively a man with evil projects simply because he was physically ugly.
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