"Strange!" he continued, as if talking to himself. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. We can be married tomorrow in Paris. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. These cogitations were interrupted by the entrance of the doctor. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. And ever after it struck him that her backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special significance.
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