She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. Anna, do you not see that the Countess is sitting alone?” She rose, and flashed a quick smile upon Ennison behind her husband’s back. He kissed her neck, moving down to her breasts, trying to consume her with passion. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. I sometimes laid away my father's clothes in his trunk.
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