If only—Anna, tell me,” she broke off suddenly, “how did you get to know Mr. “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment. . The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. But since you assure me you didn't write the letters, and Mr. Prudence was the substance and Angelina the shadow; for Angelina never offered opinions, she only agreed with those advanced by Prudence. “Great!” Cathy squealed. .
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