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“So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other. Anna sat with the face of a Sphinx— waiting. She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh. ” She assented gently. He was a fool. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. "The feeling is dead within my breast. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders.
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