CHAPTER III. Come every day to see you was flourishing. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. I seed he was one,—and a sharp un, too,—at a glance. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart.
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