“My dear Anna,” he answered. He uttered a short laugh. ‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. But in a moment she believed she understood. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. He no longer made love to her, as there was no point. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch.
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