In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. It was Annabel who spoke. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. Ennison had disappeared. This lady was singularly lucky in her matrimonial connections.
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