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A few minutes later she left the house on foot, and taking a hansom at the corner of the Square, drove to Anna’s flat. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. It would send business elsewhere; and the hotel business in Canton was never so prosperous that one could afford to lose a single guest. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times.
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