She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. “I can see you and Anna groaning and nodding your grave heads together. Only a book detective could dope this out. Sir John heard gossip about us—about Anna the recluse, a paragon of virtue, and Annabel alias ‘Alcide’ a dancer at the cafés chantants, and concerning whom there were many stories which were false, and a few—which were true. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. Many’s the bullets I’ve dug out of fellows in my time.
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