“We played at love-making in Paris. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. But he does not come to see me since three days, even that these are my affairs and one could think that he would tell it to me if there is news, no?’ ‘When he has news to tell he will come, child, trust me,’ the old lady assured her. “MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up.
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