’ For the space of half a minute, Gerald continued to scowl in silent frustration. That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. ‘Imbecile. ” “Then he—and Paris—lied,” Ennison answered. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. But you! Why the devil did you marry her? That's the thing that confounds me.
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