Annabel a murderess! It was not possible. I—well, I borrowed Anna’s name. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. Her eyes were fixed upon the ground, the pink colour coming and going in her cheeks was very delicate and girlish. At times he was brilliant and masterful, talked round and over every one, and would have been domineering if he had not been extraordinarily kindly; at times he was almost monosyllabic, and defeated Miss Garvice’s most skilful attempts to draw him out. Eggs were procured for her, and she sat out the subsequent emotions and eloquence with the dignity becoming an injured lady of good family.
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