Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better. Oh, you cannot escape from it. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. “One has to live and learn,” she remarked, with a passable imitation of her father’s manner. I’m not a psycho.
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