Anna came back into the sitting-room with a little sigh of relief. “It may be more difficult than you think,” she said. Mr. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. She tended the twins while the Clotilde was in Sebastian’s private chambers, a place she gave a wide berth.
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