Then he turned to Anna. ‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. ” A little blond creature close at hand suddenly gave way to a fit of hysterical laughter, and caught up the end of it with a sob. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. Did you ever go by any other names, ma’am?” “Yes. “Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna.
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