“Anna,” he cried eagerly. ’ ‘You, perhaps?’ she flung at him furiously, stepping out from behind the desk. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. Her mind left her. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers.
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