And Mrs. Wood heard the cry. “Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna. “I’ve gotta go. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. Lucy stared out to the busy streets beyond.
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