“It is the same man, Annabel,” she said. Kneebone made no effort to check the unreasonable merriment of his companions, but rather seemed to encourage it. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. “Are you aware, Ann Veronica, you nearly throttled that gentleman?” Then she reviled her own foolish way of putting it. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. I don’t know what has come over me.
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