“I believe,” he said slowly, “that I shall do best to throw myself upon your consideration and tell you the truth. Diable. A little darling? Lord in heaven, he had taken leave of his senses. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared. “I am sure, Anna,” she said, “I do not see why we should conceal the truth from you. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning.
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