They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. I suppose it depends on her own state of mind. "Old Van told me if he grew up he would be hanged. " "No more of this," said Winifred, angrily. Anna was unimpressed. “You did good!” She closed her eyes and rested in the moment, imagining a normal life where she would go to college, have babies with John, watch her children have children, live, and die as she had always wanted to. She writhed in ecstasy as she wrapped her legs around his waist, then raised her knees to his shoulders. 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. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s.
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