” For a moment Mr. pgdp. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. It cost her seventy-seven dollars. , or that she had a care in the world. Montague Hill was taken for the millionaire once or twice, and I suppose it flattered his vanity.
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