She looked around the apartment for other people. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. She wondered wildly why she had stood up. . She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression.
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