Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. Anna, with her marvellous capacity for enjoyment, ate cakes and laughed, and forgot that she had had tea an hour or so ago at an A. “I’m sorry Mister McCloskey! I was out seeing my boyfriend!” He stared at her concernedly. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer.
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