\" She opened the front door with her keys, stepping inside. A young man with shiny frock coat and very high collar, advanced towards her languidly. Lord bless you marm! we sees plenty on 'em in our purfession. She looked at her for a moment fixedly. Get me an interview with her. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory. But for him she might have been alive and happy. The fact itself is regrettable enough—regrettable, I fear, is quite an inadequate word. Those with true power were the Oracles. Anna lets the deception continue and has to bear the burden of her sister’s reputation which, in Paris at any rate, is that of being a coquette. Petite build, like herself.
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