She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. "But you are tired!" "I want to go over the story again. ‘Come on. The Times slipped from his fingers. Even if he were an old friend, you couldn't afford to do it. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. I was certain of it.
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