" "Sit down, my dear, sit down," interposed Mrs. Then the long lashes sank demurely over them. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. But d—n him! let's talk o' something more agreeable. It was comforting to have her there, snoring gently.
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