There, in a little tea and sweetstuff shop, she bought and consumed slowly and absent-mindedly the insufficient nourishment that is natural to her sex on such occasions. ” “You are willing to give up your position, your beautiful houses, your carriages and milliner’s accounts to come back to Bohemianism?” “Why not?” Annabel declared. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly.
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