" The Wastrel advanced. “He spends hours of every day on the pavement below,” Anna answered calmly. The door leading to the front of the house was stealthily opening. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. 'But I don't desire to spoil sport,—not I. Tell the whole truth. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. It makes me want to be just everything I CAN be to you.
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