Feeling rather exhausted, it occurred to him that possibly some provisions might have been left by the constable; and, looking about, he perceived a pitcher of water and a small brown loaf on the floor. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. I didn’t allow myself to see things as they were in those days; now I do. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you.
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