” “I am your friend,” he said slowly, “whatever you may have to tell me. ” “I suppose we are,” said Vee, rearranging the flowers in her hand. ’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me. He was a philosopher. "To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly. “And if I were you I would keep away from the fire. " "Won't my life do as well as his?" supplicated the other. ” Annabel laughed gaily.
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