The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. It is Anna again who stands between me and ruin. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. By-the-bye, do you want any money? Sir John’s ideas of pin money are not exactly princely, but I can manage what you want, I dare say. In an instant, she turned on him. His feet would have the firm texture of his hands.
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