Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. I walked London till the soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. “We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared. ” “But how can I help it? How can I keep silence?” “Please!” she insisted.
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