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How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her. “No lecturing, Anna!” she exclaimed. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for.
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