"Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. I feel like a fraudulent trustee. ’ ‘That,’ said Gosse, ‘is a matter of opinion. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. Then she sang. I followed you home on the train.
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