He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. Anna left the room on tiptoe. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off this drowsiness, and set to work in earnest. Why should they be? She and Ramage were friends, very good friends. 4.
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