"Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. “Yes. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. "I did not know … that it was … like that!" She stepped back; but as his hands fell she caught and held them tightly.
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