The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. She would not forgive me. ’ ‘What, for not wanting to marry you?’ ‘Imbecile. And the rumors! You two are fiends, ghouls, murdering wolves!” “You don’t care about Fritz and Anna! You only care for yourself!” Lucy screamed, her words falling on deaf ears.
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