" After all those former bitter failures, this cup was sweet, even if there was the flavour of irony. “Eight pounds,” she plunged, and added foolishly, “fifteen pounds will see me clear of everything. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean. Come!” They went out together and he called a hansom. " "I'll tell you what I'll do," rejoined the other. ” “Why do you think so?” she asked. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris.
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