“I don’t see,” gasped Ann Veronica, “why parents and children. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. “Now you must go,” she said firmly. Gerald’s chest tightened. The chief influence was her awakening sense of the need of money. Wood, at the top of her voice. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. Can't I make you understand? Perhaps it sounds cruel to you; but we women often have to be cruel defensively.
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