She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. ” “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” He accused. He was no longer in military uniform, and it was evident from his suit of brown brocade that he had been disturbed while preparing for an evening engagement. Anna was not “Alcide” of the “Ambassador’s,” whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting.
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