“I don’t want children, Lucy. " Lady Trafford sighed deeply. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. ‘She wants me to marry her. Annabel Pellissier was not like the others, he said. I can talk with them. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. Amid a litter of nails without heads, screws without worms, and locks without wards, lay a glue-pot and an oilstone, two articles which their owner was wont to term "his right hand and his left. ‘I knew you would be furious. “But how is it all going to end?” said Mr. Annabel set her teeth hard, and turned fiercely towards Anna. .
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