Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. The hurricane appeared to have raged in this quarter with tenfold fury. “But your sister,” he said. ‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is me when they see this. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. I don’t think for a moment that he would recognize you.
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