“Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. "But pray tell me if her husband has escaped?" "Her husband!" echoed Jonathan scornfully. And look down, so. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. Will you take me?" However tempting Mrs. “Am I hurting you?” She asked. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. What he wanted desperately was to be alone. His friendship seemed a thing worth having.
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