For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. Here again the clothes were minus the labels. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast.
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