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She listened with dumb fear in her eyes. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. Mr. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. I had no idea even that she was a friend of yours. She wanted to know. Over these hung levels, bevels, squares, and other instruments of measurement.
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