A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. " "It was her own fault," observed Blueskin, moodily. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. “What else was I to do?” For some seconds she stood watching him and both were thinking very quickly. Anna saw it, and for the first time found herself trembling.
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