“Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. Why not? Were not his own sentiments inclined in favour of the patient? But fifty gold was fifty gold. He was the social order; he was law and wisdom. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. From first to last, on this occasion, her aunt expostulated for about two hours. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence. But this was important.
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