I called myself Anna. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. He walked across the Park and called upon his sister. Wagstaff. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. “Alice—Alice gone dotty, and all over kids. Mr.
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