“Let’s hope your successor is worthy of you. That blow made me a thief. Marvel," remarked Shotbolt. Anna turned deliberately away from the bedside. His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. Hetty, looking out of the window—she always smoked her after-breakfast cigarette at the window for the benefit of the less advanced section of Morningside Park society—and trying not to raise objections, saw Miss Stanley going down toward the shops. “He dissembles,” he said.
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