She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. Good-bye aunt. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows. “Ah!” said Ramage, impressively.
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