The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. Anna was not “Alcide” of the “Ambassador’s,” whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting. ” “You what?” she repeated incredulously. ‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon.
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