Part 8 “Why should I ever come back?” she said to herself, as she went down the staircase. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it.
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