” “I’m a married man. But probably not the truth. She made up her mind in the train home that it should be a decisive crisis. Offer to return it to each in private. I’ve told you that practically already. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do. She must be beautiful, but beauty is only the beginning.
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