“Forgive me,” he said, “but I want to hear it from your sister. “Does he live here?” he asked her presently. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart. “I have not left this apartment myself. I believe I am doomed to be an old maid. Your adoptive father understands mankind better. . “Have you any money?” “Lots,” Anna answered laconically. There was no one at home, and I was coming away when I saw that the door was open. “Sold again,” she remarked. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. She became eager to explain herself, to show herself in the right light. .
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