But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. She had tried to shift the subject of conversation away from herself and was even managing successfully until Chen the father addressed her. She pointed across the road. You can trust me, Anna.
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