’ ‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Miss Froxfield darkly, with a mischievous glance at her betrothed. “Anna!” he exclaimed hoarsely. I feel that I shall stifle unless I can do something—and do something soon. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. Somehow to-night—I don’t know. I have worn it for weeks and weeks.
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