“Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. "What for?" demanded Wood. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. “Well, hello there. There's our young friend upstairs. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy.
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