“G. You have been burning paper, I see. CHAPTER XXXII. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. She could even think of what had happened. The afternoon was her own; but from eight until midnight she sat beside the patient. They could not go on.
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