Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time. " "Bah!" returned the woollen-draper. "What does he say?" roared the long drover. “They might do you good,” she remarked. When the disillusion comes, when the fairy story ends, if she is blessed with children, she doesn't mind. Because I’m younger than you.
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