The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. ‘You do not know how I am like my mother. Anna turned deliberately away from the bedside. I think that I have become a drug drinker. But take a drop of wine," urged he, filling a drinking-horn and presenting it to her; "it's choice canary, and'll do you good.
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