Then she turned, and entering the inner room, commenced to dress hastily for the street. It is we who have become the parasites and toys. So completely! The oddest fitness! What is it made of? Texture of skin and texture of mind? Complexion and voice. She started forward. “My word holds,” she said. “Where have you been? All these hours I have been calling for you. ” Mr. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her.
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