’ ‘And who, may I ask, is Dorothée?’ asked Gerald. She addressed her letters, meditated on them for a time, and then took them out and posted them. He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. Beyond was another door, on which was painted in black letters: MR. The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her hand. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees.
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