The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. “You don’t know him, Anna,” she said with a little shudder, “or you would not talk like that. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage.
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