A woman hard to read, who seemed to delight in keeping locked up behind that fascinating rigidity of feature the intense sensibility which had been revealed to him, her master, only in occasional and rare moments of enthusiasm. “Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna.
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