"My friends, Mr. . “I do,” Anna answered. As for loving you, I do. ” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter.
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