Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. Sheppard. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. I wanted to have something to give up. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. Blueskin, you are a true friend.
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