“For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. She helped herself to the remainder of the slightly congealed bacon, and reverted to the problem of getting her luggage out of the house. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture.
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