Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. “Are you going to the Vorsack’s for dinner tonight?” “Yes, I think I’ll stop by. ” Anna got up and looked at the mirror and then at the poster. Alors, one must steel oneself. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch.
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