They embarked upon an open and declared friendship. Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door. Figg, the noted prize-fighter, from the New Amphitheatre in Marylebone Fields. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. Get nothing out of me.
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