Hang the wench! Roding was right. ” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes.
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