The latch had not fully caught. Anna raised her eyebrows at the sight of him. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. Her mouth lolled open and drool seeped down one corner. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. Ann Veronica tried to seem absolutely unconcerned. I want to talk to you, and I must return tomorrow. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven.
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