" She showed him the locket; and he studied the face. He sat down. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. Montague Hill. One went in for painting, kept straight and married old Ferringhall a week or so ago—the Lord help her. “And I’m not happy. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women.
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