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” “What else,” Lady Lescelles murmured, “are men for?” Anna laughed. They happen to a man. “Call me Annabel. She saw how overworked he was. She was slender, and sometimes she seemed tall, and walked and carried herself lightly and joyfully as one who commonly and habitually feels well, and sometimes she stooped a little and was preoccupied. ” She cried once they were in the great room. Charcoal. ‘What the devil for? I’ll have one of the men ride the creature up tomorrow. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered.
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