Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. ‘I have told you I will take Jacques. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. Wood,—"he'll never mend. ” She propped herself up on the massive oaken post of the bed, feeling the paralysis tingle her legs as it left them ever so slowly.
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