I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. The thought of them distressed her without subtracting at all from the oceans of happiness in which she swam. F. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. "Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together.
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