" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. She turned to face him and he kissed her. “Am I dull?” she said. She wondered what the problem was, why the buildup? She wanted to go to his apartment that evening but stayed herself. Recovering himself quickly his instinct of self-defence was quicker than his recollection of Anna’s presence. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. Constantly sick with the croup or diaper rash. She saw it, and checked without thinking.
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