She looked at the suitcase sadly and stashed it underneath her bed. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. I'll go alone. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. They even talked about friendship. “Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London.
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