“I am off to-night,” he said. The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. He resumed his listening. "As long as I live, I'll never forget that dress of hers," Prudence declared. Will you take me?" However tempting Mrs. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly.
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