“For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. Consider you’ve got resources deposited with me. “I will not have this slavery. I want to get away—to go to London. “Sure, are you sure you’re okay?” He exited off the highway onto a quiet road and pulled over. She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. “It isn’t a joke,” she said.
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