See paragraph 1. . She covered herself with her arms. Montague Hill was taken for the millionaire once or twice, and I suppose it flattered his vanity. Believe me, Anna. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. She is the wife now of another man. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. “Can you come out tonight?” “Um, sure, I guess. The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute.
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