A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. Anna sprang lightly away across the street. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. A town called Foster. . Rowland, meantime, alarmed by the voices, snatched a torch from his attendant, and holding it over the side of the wherry, witnessed the incident just described.
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