“We will take it then,” he said, “that you have refused or ignored one request I have made you this morning. Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. “I thought that I heard a groan,” Anna whispered. My death, probably. We can be married tomorrow in Paris. I must tell somebody—and you would understand.
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