“Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. Something happened down there, and probably I'll never know what. She had no place she loved. Having now sealed his letter, Sheppard took a handkerchief, and tying it over Shotbolt's face, so as completely to conceal the features, clapped his hat upon his head, and pushed it over his brows. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. She went from period to period exactly as she would have read prose; so that sense and music were equally balanced. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. Yon must be mine to-night. ’ ‘In a way she had been,’ said Prudence. It would hurt no one. She felt pride sashay into her thoughts.
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