Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. . Annabel, come to the door with me,” she added a little abruptly. The major might not indulge in this sort of flirtation in the ordinary way, but he had seen enough among his army colleagues to know just how to go about it.
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