Anna sat with the face of a Sphinx— waiting. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. “They would spoil every chance. He lives in constant dread of a reappearance of ‘La Belle Alcide,’ and hearing it said that she is his wife’s sister. But I’m thinking as how I’d best report to the major over this here shooting.
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