” “It is very nice of you,” Anna said softly. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. “Monsieur admires the poster?” As a rule Sir John treated such advances with cold silence. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. "I could hang him now if I liked. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph.
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