Its smooth surface soothed her nerves. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. A pane of glass was shivered by each stone. 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. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink.
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