*** Madame la Comtesse de St Erme regarded the English major with a lacklustre eye, Gerald thought. Then Anna spoke more seriously than usual. It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. The coach in which the prisoner had been conveyed was already broken to pieces, and the driver was glad to escape with life. It simply doesn’t count. "What's that?" ejaculated the ruffian, glancing uneasily towards the window. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. He brightened as she took off her hood. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself.
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