E. ” Anna drummed impatiently with her fingers against the arm of her chair. She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story. ‘You know what I am about,’ exclaimed Melusine impatiently. Anna failed in her painting, our money was gone, and she was forced to earn her own living.
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