Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door. Michelle waved to her, then flitted over to where she was sitting. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. The latter had delivered himself from one of his assailants, the attendant, Davies. He refused to believe that Anna was not ‘Alcide.
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