” “And I may bring my luggage in and send that cabman away?” Anna asked. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. I wish very much that you had written before leaving Paris. He had something across his knees.
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