” Anna’s demeanour was still imperturbable, her marble pallor untinged by the slightest flush of colour. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. But there is need for the proof that I am me, and that is what I look for. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea.
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