And now she was discovering that even Nature was something of a liar, with her mirages and her horizons. . ” Anna hesitated, and then held out the letter. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. " "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another.
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