She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. “It does nothing but sit there. Anna passed serenely out.
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