“Are you free tomorrow? Should I call?” He asked. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. ’ She smiled on the last words, adding, ‘Oh, I don’t blame you for trying. " "Silly love stories?" "No; love wasn't the theme. But you belong to me—and I want you. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. And yet—you millionaires should really, I think, cultivate the art of discrimination.
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