” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. All the jailers declared it utterly impossible he could have accomplished his astonishing task unaided; but who had lent him assistance was a question they were unable to answer. His client’s story is safe with him. You certainly have not shown much desire for my society, have you?” “You have been wrapped up in your politics,” she murmured. He was a stranger. The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. We struggle against it at first, but in the end we have to submit.
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