“Impossible to say,” he answered. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. The manager had sketched the girl's character, or rather had interpreted it, from the incidents which had happened since dinner. She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. ” “And if you are a millionaire like Drummond,” someone remarked, “you send round a note and ask her to come out to supper. Mr. Hear me, adorable girl! You know not the extent of my devotion.
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