‘She’s little more than a schoolgirl, just out. Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook her head. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as the painting was turned towards him. I suppose you came right out and asked him about his family?’ ‘Nothing of the sort.
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