She had nothing to say for herself. "I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smile. Now, will you do me the honour of lunching with me, Miss Pellissier?” Anna hesitated. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled.
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