“My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. “I did not recognize him,” Anna answered. “She doesn’t know. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. The Iron Bar 397 XVIII. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. " "Mrs. ‘You are too shrewd for me, ma’am.
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