Chapter 2 - (VERSO)
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the pale, lovely dawn-color came stealing up the sky behind the spruces the Old Lady buried her face in her pillow and refused to look at it.
“I hate the new day,” she said rebelliously. “It will be just like all the other hard, common days. I don’t want to get up and live it. And, oh, to think that long ago I reached out my hands joyfully to every new day, as to a friend who was brin bringing me good tidings! I loved the mornings then—sunny or gray, they were as delightful as an unread book—and now I hate them—hate them—hate them!”
But the Old Lady got up nevertheless, for she knew Crooked Jack would be coming early to finish
TEXT ANNOTATION
From "Old Lady Lloyd."