The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. “Anna! Thank God I have found you at last. ‘Anyhow, never mind that now. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. ’ ‘Hadn’t the wit, you mean. They are the only happy women in the Orient.
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