Anna was not “Alcide” of the “Ambassador’s,” whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. But here I am to draw upon. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest.
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