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She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. “What is the good of talking?” said her brother. Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better. My heart misgives me. "Well, my dear, I've a proposal to make in regard to this babby of yours, which may, or may not, be agreeable. Not so bad. She could have traded it for gold nuggets and lived like a queen for a few weeks, but she did not. She heard it open, but as she felt unable to look round in a careless manner she pretended not to hear it. ” “I thought I explained—” “I don’t think you can have heard me,” said her father; “I have told you to come home.
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