At length she hit upon it: bubbling water. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. “Go on!” “People talked to you in Paris about us,” she continued, “about Anna the virtuous and Annabel the rake. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it.
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