“You did not wish to see him particularly this evening, then?” Anna hesitated. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. “I may be leaving where I am in a few days, so very likely you will be no better off. “You must tell me the truth, please. “As it is doubtful whether the man will live, we should be glad if you would identify him.
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