ould happen that at lunch-time she was waiting, when he climbed the stairs holding a big bunch of flowers, and the weary smile of a man determined to humour a woman.
'To the nicest landlady in the world,' he murmured.
Anna took the flowers, hesitated
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He stood smiling, his face averted in the parody of a man suffering unjust punishment.
'Well well,' he murmured. 'Well well well.'
'Get out,' said Anna. She had never in her life been angry like this.
He went upstairs and in a few moments she heard the noises of his packing. Soon he came down, a suitcase in each hand. His possessions. All he had in the world. Oh how sad, this poor young man, all his possessions locked in a couple of suitcases.
He laid the rent he owed-five back weeks, for he was bad about money
hot lv sale, on the table. Anna noted, with interest, that she had to suppress an impulse to give it back to him. Meanwhile he stood, weary with disgust: this money-grubbing woman, well what can one expect?
But he must have taken the money out of the bank or borrowed it that morning
louboutins, which meant that he had expected her to stay firm, in spite of the flowers. He must have said: There's a chance I'll get ryilai：
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