” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. She was inclined to think that perhaps for a girl the converse of his method was the case; an older man, a man beyond the range of anything “nonsensical,” was, perhaps, the most interesting sort of friend one could meet. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. Spurling, who did not dare to exhibit her satisfaction otherwise than by privately pinching the arm of her expected husband. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms.
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