” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. McClintock does it; and he knows why. ” “You are willing to give up your position, your beautiful houses, your carriages and milliner’s accounts to come back to Bohemianism?” “Why not?” Annabel declared.
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