” “You love—Anna?” she exclaimed. The lady looked them over in silence, and then pouting lips trembled, dark eyelashes fluttered, and in a broken voice, she pleaded, ‘Honoured messieurs, you will not allow this—this pig, to be thus cruel? He cannot arrest me. And her kind of love forgives everything and anything but infidelity. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. "You mistake,—you are mine. "The danger's past," whispered Bess.
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