“You don’t know him, Anna,” she said with a little shudder, “or you would not talk like that. “I shall leave the flat to you and go to a hotel. Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay. C. It is bad policy. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. The man’s passion was infectious.
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