Anna turned deliberately away from the bedside. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. Lad, I admire you even in your folly. You are going to be generous and forgive. Such ambitions as he had were stereotyped and material. She felt sleepy and unusually irritable. That’s why I wanted your weapons. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris.
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