Anna was still holding her cigarette between her fingers. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. There would be no mercy in this man. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos.
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