‘Talk to me another time. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. “I have signed a statement that I shot myself; bad trade and drink, both true—both true. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. Wood, who had recovered her good humour, quitted the room she bestowed a hearty embrace on Thames, and she told him laughingly, that she would "defer all she had to propose to him until to-morrow. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. It’s a pure joy of giving—giving to YOU.
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