He pushed her back forcefully into her seat with his lips, his body automatically responding to her kiss. “You don’t know him, Anna,” she said with a little shudder, “or you would not talk like that. She took up a book and threw it down again. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. Anna lets the deception continue and has to bear the burden of her sister’s reputation which, in Paris at any rate, is that of being a coquette.
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