Re: The pain of love is the pain of being alive. It is a perpetual wound
- To: "abraham monique" <email@example.com>
- Subject: Re: The pain of love is the pain of being alive. It is a perpetual wound
- From: "guyedward monisai" <firstname.lastname@example.org>
- Date: Thu, 23 Mar 2006 18:26:44 +0000
- Message-id: <email@example.com>
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"Annushka, dear, what am I to do?" said Anna, sobbing and sinking
helplessly into a chair.
"Why fret yourself so, Anna Arkadyevna? Why, there's nothing out
of the way. You drive out a little, and it'll cheer you up,"
said the maid.
"Yes, I'm going," said Anna, rousing herself and getting up.
"And if there's a telegram while I'm away, send it on to Darya
Alexandrovna's...but no, I shall be back myself."
"Yes, I mustn't think, I must do something, drive somewhere, and
most of all, get out of this house," she said, feeling with
terror the strange turmoil going on in her own heart, and she