Twice she smiled, but not unkindly. “Anna! Thank God I have found you at last. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. It was not possible for him to have been deceived. Women who Dids, and all that kind of thing. CHAPTER XII.
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