Diable. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. “Last time I saw you,” he reminded her, “you spoke, did you not, of obtaining some employment in London. Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better.
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