Anna leaned back with half closed eyes. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. “I have been amusing myself up to now by trying to earn my living,” she replied. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. He strangled the infant, which slipped out of his hands and screamed. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. ’ She edged sideways a little more, her eyes on the pistol in his hand.
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