But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. To-night all London believes that he was your husband. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. “On or about the day you receive this letter, Anna, the six months will be up. If by any chance I have made a mistake a word will bring me to you. —"Stay! something occurs to me.
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