I was curious about that. ‘What?’ Roding snapped, coming quickly to tower above the window seat. Yet every now and then, during the progress of the meal, his attention apparently wandered, and leaning forward he glanced covertly at Anna with a curious mixture of expressions on his face. She wanted to turn him. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot.
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