It would be downright cruel to disillusion her. The stage manager came out from the wings, and taking her hand led her off. He succeeded so well that they were almost in Montague Street before Anna stopped short. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. ‘I do not know of whom you speak. Nasty, damp passages. She felt this was the sensible way out of this oddly sinister situation. . These and her general preparations had perhaps a certain disproportion.
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