“Ciao, Fragolina. Almost the last female to bear the name, too,’ muttered the old lady. He did so care for you. We are alone and we can say and do what we please. ” Anna moved softly to the window, and threw up the sash. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. She repeated this breathlessly.
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