Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. “In it lies the secret poison he used to turn you into an Oracle. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. Anna never knew whither it had led her— sometimes she had fears.
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