Who is it?” The man came a little further into the room. " "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. In seconds, they faced each other before the altar. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. Can’t ask the gent to go abroad and condone a bigamy. Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better. ” For a moment she was grave. His friendship seemed a thing worth having. That’s the flat business situation. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid.
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