Mrs. Her heels made contact with Rhea’s knees and hobbled her with a crack. “Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna. She knew the truth of it all right. Twelve years ago! It is an awful retrospect. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. I'll call it my wedding gift. . In vain Wood protested his innocence.
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