“This is the slavery of the veiled life. ’ ‘Get going, then,’ Trodger told his men. Now, will you do me the honour of lunching with me, Miss Pellissier?” Anna hesitated. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her.
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