Then for a time she sat very still. The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. But, though the latter was somewhat embarrassed by his burthen, he peremptorily declined Jonathan's offer of assistance. ‘I can take care of myself, bête. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night.
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