CHAPTER XII. Inside was Anna, leaning a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth—the desire to understand and appreciate this new world in which she found herself. Where's the dining room? And, say, can I have some eggs? This jam-tea breakfast gets my goat. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. Griffin. ‘Odd sort of a nun. .
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