Kneebone assured her that he did say so; and, as a further proof of his sincerity, squeezed her hand very warmly under the table. Anna was not “Alcide” of the “Ambassador’s,” whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting. “He is one of our guests—perhaps I should say boarders here, but he seldom returns before dinner-time. “My wife.
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