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She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. Her hair was the one part of her that did not exude the air of wealth. Immediately he was gone, she regretted that she had not followed. He answered with the greatest assurance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter—had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up. “How dared you do yourself this injustice?” “I did it for her sake,” she answered. I didn’t realize—I don’t see how I can get out of it now. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel.
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