” He resumed, after a mouthful: “Here is a girl of sixteen or seventeen, seventeen and a half to be exact, running about, as one might say, in London. Amongst them was a revolver. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. “But that’s quite different,” replied Anna. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. “Let your friends act for you. I have made up my mind to insist upon moving from here into Park Lane, or one of the Squares. The envelope might contain only a request as to what he wanted done with the manuscripts.
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