She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. "Hoity-toity! You owe me sixteen thousand dollars. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. “Think of the mockery!” she said.
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