while we can,’ Kimble managed, and dragged himself onto his knees. That is why I called myself Anna. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. "I am quite easy now; receive my blessing, my dear son; and if we never meet again, rest assured my last prayer shall be for you. .
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