Can you kill yourself?” He asked quietly. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Anna, who had thrown aside her sealskin coat, wore a tight-fitting walking dress of some dark shade. It's sixteen days down, with The Tigress. It cost her seventy-seven dollars. ” “I don’t believe it,” he answered hoarsely.
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