” He put his head on one side, pulled down the corners of his mouth, and looked at her over his glasses. ” She lifted steadfast eyes to him. “You are unjust and quixotic, Anna, you have no right to treat any one as you are treating me. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. The door opened. I'll see. I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall.
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