"An American. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. “He’s got almost to like it. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped.
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