John was acutely focused upon her now, just as she had wanted him to be. Earles,” she exclaimed. “Who are you—Annabel Pellissier or her ghost?” Anna laughed. In the upper hall he paused to listen. This time there wasn't any doubt. They sat in the front row. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites.
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