"Bess wouldn't bear a rival. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. ’ ‘It’s already known,’ said Mrs Sindlesham, ‘judging by the number of callers we have had these two days. I shall make no defence. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. “Anna! Thank God I have found you at last. . She loved him.
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