I know nothing about the girl, save what you have told me. You are restless, aggressive, critical with all the crude unthinking criticism of youth. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. I worshipped her and subdued myself. He resolved to judge for himself. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. ’ The eyes flashed momentarily. "And I want to thank you, too," supplemented Ruth. The doll she had never owned, the cat and the dog that had never been hers: here they were, strangely incorporated in this sleeping man.
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