” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. She was not a reversion to type, which intimates the primordial; she suggested rather the incarnation of some goddess of the South Seas. Such names shone brightly in the darkness, with black spaces of unilluminated emptiness about them, as stars shine in the night; but now—now it was different; now it was dawn—the real dawn. "Buck up! While there's life there's hope. I am tired, and I want to be alone. I am fairly well hardened in iniquity—your iniquity, Annabel—but I decline to have a husband thrust upon me.
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