Please don’t let any one know that. She twanged the catgut under her fingers. He resented being regarded as irregular. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. “Many nights I have thought of you, Anna. 1. You had better let me go again. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. 1. ” She shook her fist ceilingward.
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