‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. But it's French manners, I suppose. Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better. " There had never been, from that fatal hour eight months gone down to this, the inclination to confess. III. But I’d have done it without, though it weren’t my place.
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