It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. Mr. I tried. “You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging.
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