Anna, with her marvellous capacity for enjoyment, ate cakes and laughed, and forgot that she had had tea an hour or so ago at an A. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. As usual the substantive sister—Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her submitting nods. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour.
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