The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. There was the world besides, looming darker and larger. Why, there was drama in the very dress she wore! There was drama in the unusual beauty of her, hidden away all these years on a forgotten isle! "You've been lonely, too. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. “Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman.
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