Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. In response to an almost imperative gesture from the nurse, Anna laid her hand upon his. “Tell him to drive—anywhere,” she exclaimed. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person. She entered the kitchen.
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