He might spend the rest of his days at McClintock's in perfect security. Anna was singing as she used to sing. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. The ruffled chemise-front under the wide lapels of her waistcoat and jacket no longer quivered, and her pose, with the full cloth petticoat spreading about her, was relaxed.
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