And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. “How unkind!” she exclaimed. Cathy appeared in her bathrobe. They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. ” Anna hesitated, and then held out the letter.
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