“It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head. Nothing but the constraint of social usage now linked him to her. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. Let him be sure. “Well, anyhow, consider it open. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910.
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