‘Forgive this intrusion, ma’am, I beg. ” “And for me,” Anna echoed. So while he talked to this girl of work and freedom, his slightly protuberant eyes were noting the gracious balance of her limbs and body across the gate, the fine lines of her chin and neck. She was to be handed over with her dowry of three thousand Florins, plus her pet bird, six chickens, her mother’s fine linens, a small book of poetry. Saren Chen was a tall woman, thin and beautiful in a masculine way, Germanic. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. Gentlemen! a glass of brandy will be no bad finish to our meal. It was locked.
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