“You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. Think of those days in Paris. He succeeded so well that they were almost in Montague Street before Anna stopped short. It was, in his opinion, the most astonishing letter he had ever read. “I want to be your friend,” he said.
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