But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. Her fingers rested upon his. Manning? I suppose there’s a sort of place like a ticket-office. He reached for her chin and lifted it up. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. "The poor young man!" she said. “Your name, I believe, is——” “Pellissier,” Anna answered.
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