She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. By that time it seemed to them they had lived together twenty years. “I am very glad that you have come here. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. Jonathan had not deceived him. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair.
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