Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. She observed a man walking on the opposite side of the way and looking toward her. Gay," he added, turning to the poet. ” “And why shouldn’t you?” “I felt that sort of thing couldn’t go on. That is why I called myself Anna. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. ‘That’s right, you bone idle do-nothings.
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