"No! Don't talk yet, listen to me." Anna spoke in an indisputable and irrefutable tone. She took Winters' hand and held it tightly, very tightly: "When I was seven years old, during the winter, my mother would traditionally take me to the shop. On our way home, outside the city, we encountered a beggar who was nearly frozen to death. My mother didn't have any money with her, nor did the coachman, so she took off her earrings and gave them to the beggar."
"Mrs. Navarre is very kind."
"No." Anna looked at Winters with a complex expression: "It was only later that my mother found out that the beggar had frozen to death on the way to pawn the earrings."
Winters could tell, even after so many years, this incident still troubled Anna greatly. He silently squeezed her hand.
