She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. It would have been better had he succeeded in murdering her, she thought. ” Anna was speechless, but she had presence of mind enough to sit still until she had recovered herself. "Where can I hide myself?" he added, glancing round the room in search of a closet.
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