Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. ’ Roding looked struck. Anna was not “Alcide” of the “Ambassador’s,” whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting. Arrived in the plantation she sat down with her back against a tree trunk. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. “How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants.
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