If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. Anna watched her with curious eyes. . . But I waited in vain. “Anna!” she repeated. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress.
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