” “What did you say?” “I said, ‘My dear Veronica! how can you think of such things?’” “And then?” “She had two more cups of tea and some cake, and told me of her walk. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. “Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna. But of what avail is this? You have no execution, no finish.
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