What right had a young woman to possess the scarring and intimate knowledge of that dreg of human society, the beachcomber? CHAPTER II Ah Cum lived at No. The way it had happened was stupid, absurd. Which is also puzzling. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. She reads novels—and history—and all sorts of things. I won’t even ask. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. CHAPTER VI Sidney Carton, thought Ruth, in pursuit of a sing-song girl! The idea was so incongruous that a cold little smile parted her lips. To love in such a way, it is excessively selfish. He returned to attend the funeral. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self.
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