Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. “I like your brother better than any other man I know,” Anna said at last. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually.
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