“You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. He drifted in and out of consciousness. Her teachers and mistresses had done their best to stamp her mind with an ineradicable persuasion that it was tremendously important, and on no account to be thought about. " The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door.
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