He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. The old lady’s face was stiff with anger. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. He had bled everywhere, but she had struck when the opportunity was ripe. ‘What is this proof?’ ‘I will not tell you. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. He was confounded by the presence in which he found himself. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions.
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