" Animated by this trifling success, he proceeded with fresh ardour, and the rapidity of his progress was proclaimed by the heap of bricks, stones, and mortar which before long covered the floor. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. “Until a girl can go away as a son does and earn her independent income, she’s still on a string. ” Ennison at once seated himself. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. He leaned forward to better drink her in. 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. She was too late.
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