And then she came out into the street, sure only of one thing—that she could not return directly to her lodgings. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. ‘Oh, Marthe,’ she groaned, using in her accustomed way the French version of her nurse’s name, ‘that pig is going to monsieur le baron. ” Anna laughed, and went back to her easy chair.
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