‘Mademoiselle. ‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly. ” “Annabel, are you mad? To England! You are joking, of course. ” “And yet,” he murmured, “one of the greatest of our writers has declared that the true spirit of Bohemianism is denied to your sex. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child.
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