She stood up before him, smiling faintly. ” She shivered. Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. Gerald’s chest tightened. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts.
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