” She smiled at him. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. "Where?" she cried. . ” “You are willing to give up your position, your beautiful houses, your carriages and milliner’s accounts to come back to Bohemianism?” “Why not?” Annabel declared. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. “John, we should be getting out of here. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. Loneliness.
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