Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. ” She slipped it on her finger, and added, in a voice she tried to make matter-of-fact: “It was given to me last week. "At all events, I've not done with you. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. It had been discussed in silence. “I am convinced you haven’t thought this out,” he went on. Ah, if I had written that!" "Don't you want to live?" "I don't know; I really don't know. The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere. “I think,” she said, “that I will tell you everything. No one is safe.
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