He succeeded so well that they were almost in Montague Street before Anna stopped short. The poison from the teeth radiated from her shoulder and paralyzed her limbs. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady. The Semitic looking young man opposite, who seems to have been committing you to memory piecemeal, will tell you that he was never so bored in all his life as he has been here. CHAPTER I. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. Her loneliness was consuming, Lucia.
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