Mr. ” She murmured. “Mr. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. ” For a moment she was grave. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. It was not a hard face, but it was resolute. A medley of motives warred in her, and it was certainly not one of the least of these that she knew herself to be passionately in love with Capes; at moments she had a giddy intimation that he was beginning to feel keenly interested in her.
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