Hill was seated. She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. 156 He followed, “Um, is it okay if we talk in private for a few minutes somewhere?” Cathy was quick to reply. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. Then she went back and mixed up the sheets in a search for particular passages. Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. CHAPTER XXXII.
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