” Anna rose to her feet. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. wonderful. “That is your sister’s name. "It is useless to deny it," replied Jack. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him.
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