CHAPTER XXVI. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. They WERE, she realized, acutely beautiful things. I believe I am doomed to be an old maid. Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside.
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