‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. “I see nothing of my sister,” she said. He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. ” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood.
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