" "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. ‘That is imbecile. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “Hainault, Celeste’s friend. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. “What would you like to hear? Some J.
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