” “Well?” “I went from Anna’s flat to Nigel Ennison’s rooms. “This has almost killed your father. " "That is your fault, none of mine. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. “Have you any money?” “Lots,” Anna answered laconically. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself.
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