Anna came back into the sitting-room with a little sigh of relief. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom. Yet her embarrassment was only a passing thing. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. The work of plunder over, that of destruction commenced. You did not see me, I know.
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