For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. Then came the cable that you were in Canton, ill, but not dangerously so. Most unsatisfactory. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. Anna was not “Alcide” of the “Ambassador’s,” whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting. Ruth could not very well object, since an air of distinction would go with Taber. So they fenced with smiles.
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