For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. "There's a young woman. ” “I am your friend,” he said slowly, “whatever you may have to tell me. ” To remain, she felt, was to concede everything. .
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