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Annabel was in hiding all the time. She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it. “While we were minding the children they stole our rights and liberties. ‘At least I couldn’t say for sure. He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment. “If I do,” he said. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. "Insult you! not I;" returned Figg.
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