‘You have something more to tell me?’ Jack grinned. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. "So I will," rejoined Shotbolt; "so I will. I should think, Anna, that your own sense—er—of propriety would enable you to see this.
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