Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. You care for me just a little, I know. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. Yet you can look Cheveney in the face and declare that you do not know him. \"Thanks for walking me home. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously.
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