But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears. She looked down tassels of his shiny shoes with a scowl. As far as I recollect, there were two. . “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully.
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