She was furiously angry. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. I have only just left Wych Street. Let us be gone.
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