She still kicked herself for it. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. He could think about it later. “You need have no further trouble. I have an aunt who is coming to live with me, and I do not intend to receive any visitors at all. . ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. It simply doesn’t count.
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