They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. “Why destroy me, child? There are so many secrets I 231 could tell you. “I have come from a very unfashionable quarter,” she said, “and I do not think that I have been inside a milliner’s shop for a year. ” She closed her mouth. But there is need for the proof that I am me, and that is what I look for. It was a moment of breathless interest to all engaged in the attempt. They concern us all.
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