. She felt anger at Sebastian, anger at the thrill that she felt in her loins upon seeing him, anger at herself for never having the courage to end her own life. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. The phone did not ring. Anna sprang lightly away across the street. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her.
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