” “They were my posters,” Annabel said. " "A promise to my mother?" said Winifred, unsuspiciously. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. " The stranger said nothing, but hastily brushed away a tear.
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