Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. “Anna,” she cried, “you must believe me. She wanted to scream, but there was no one to scream for. " "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. “Think of that check you endorsed. Ramage—about the forty pounds.
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