Jonathan stepped behind a curtain. “I love you, Anna, and I want you for my wife. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic. CHAPTER XIII.
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