She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. "Strange!" observed the Master; "I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time. Anna, why will you persist in this single-handed combat with life?” “Don’t!” she cried. “We have been all this time—Only your queer code of honor—Honor! Once you begin with love you have to see it through. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. Marry, come up! I'll show him what an injured wife can do. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures.
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