In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. Without you I should never have recovered either health or reason. Traps, set with peculiar cunning; she had encountered them everywhere.
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