" "Oh! he told you that, did he?" said Blueskin, marching up to her, and chucking her under the chin. Anna sighed as she reflected that her sister had simply revelled in her indiscretions. "I'm a detective; my ears and eyes have been trained to absorb all I see and all I hear. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. ’” Anna made no remark. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. She attempted by a sheer act of will to end the scene, to will herself out of it anywhere. “Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris. 9. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. But, when the sound of the carriage-wheels died away, and he felt that she was actually gone, his resolution failed him, and he rang the bell violently. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand.
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