‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. It was she—— Anna’s nerves were not easily shaken, but she found herself suddenly clutching at the table for support. She had thought of the lawyer who conducted the Remenham business, but she knew not where to find him. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. If you don’t think it would be a social outrage, perhaps I might walk with you to your railway station.
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