Anna was not “Alcide” of the “Ambassador’s,” whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. She flung aside every plan she had in life, every discretion. Her canines had receded, but were still 166 prominent. "Sorry you're obliged to keep your word. “So very clear and cold,” she said.
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