In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. She saw his eyes glaze over. She had no place she loved. ” “Well?” “I went from Anna’s flat to Nigel Ennison’s rooms. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. I’ve got too much work.
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