She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. " And she flung herself between them. The horror of those few minutes was still with her. He speaks English. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions.
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