She was a schizophrenic, got locked up later in some sort of state mental ward. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. Her natural instincts reasserted themselves. Chapter VII MISS PELLISSIER’S SUSPICIONS “Anna!” Anna kissed her sister and nodded to her aunt. “Please go and see that—nothing happens,” she pleaded.
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