She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. “He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. It is Anna again who stands between me and ruin.
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