“I did not,” Anna answered. . She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. 148 “Sure. ‘I am not French in the least, bête. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. “Then I will do what I can,” Anna promised. She is no longer mine; she is yours.
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