The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. The little girl uttered no remonstrance; but, replacing the flowers in the basket, burst into tears, and withdrew.
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