His brows drew a little nearer together. He made a note of the idea and stored it away. The prospect of the gallows would never deter me from taking to the road, if I were so inclined. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. He has escaped. I tell you that I love you, Anna, and I believe that you love me. His literary instincts began to stir. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis.
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