” He replied. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it. So he resolved to try another tack. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a desperate encounter. She was unusually pale, and her eyes were brilliant. I love you still, Anna, but life holds other things than the love of man for woman. Sir John saw it, and was flattered.
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