” Anna glanced up. CHAPTER XXII. ” He said as Cathy took his coat and alternately handed him back his bouquet of red roses. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. As if we didn’t know! The practical trouble is our ages. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. They stopped talking, except to each other. Take it, I tell you.
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