Anna was having tea by herself when she entered. Little by little, she stopped hating him. Bodies were piled high in the streets, Sebastian went on rounds and would come back late at night, reporting horrors and robberies, death that came within hours, not days. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. How many nuns were there in England who might have occasion to spy on Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom? The presence of the French refugees took on greater significance. They were at the corner of Pall Mall now, and had come to a standstill.
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