One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. “Annabel?” he exclaimed.
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