“He is one of our guests—perhaps I should say boarders here, but he seldom returns before dinner-time. He stood up, apparently intending to put an arm about her, but she stepped back from him quickly. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. One could go to him and tell him one loved him. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. "I would sacrifice all my fortune—all my hopes —to liberate him. It doesn’t matter.
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