“Why should one pretend?” she whispered. ” She had found it on a gray beach along the shores of California in the year 1804. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. There's not his peer among the peerage. " And springing backwards, he darted suddenly through the door. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful.
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