How she hated talking of the man who was responsible for her being brought into the world. The delay was only momentary. “We have a small studio,” she murmured, “in the Rue de St. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. The world had grown dark and wide, and she was very small. Forthwith he presented his card. ” Annabel clutched her sister’s hands. ’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door. She had never been to the opera before except as one of a congested mass of people in the cheaper seats, and with backs and heads and women’s hats for the frame of the spectacle; there was by contrast a fine large sense of space and ease in her present position.
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