Anna——” Again she stopped him, but this time it was not so easy. The boy would never know just how lucky he was. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. ‘You said it. “Bother it all!” she swore. “Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna.
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