“Well, I don’t want you to talk to him,” he said, very firmly. “You stupid bitch. ” “Perhaps not,” she answered. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. She proffered her neck towards him. As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it. A pretty name for a pretty girl. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. ’ The fury welled.
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