The little room was fragrant with flowers, Anna herself bright, and with all the evidences of well being. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. “I have a letter for you, and no end of messages. Certainly I never met him. His voice now had lost its ironies. When he had finished he took up the wine list and ordered a bottle of dry champagne.
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