"I'm not worth it. With a moment of inward shame he remembered his deportment towards Anna. She climbed back into the window an hour before sunrise. These sham ideals and advanced notions. A few seconds sufficed to clear the passage, through which it had previously cost him more than two hours to force his way. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo.
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