Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. " "Too proud, eh?" rejoined the prize-fighter. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. The winters were bitter here, they could have just as easily been frozen off. ‘You must have been an exceedingly good pupil.
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