She stepped on to the pavement almost before him, and his blood turned almost to ice as he saw that she was not alone. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. "Those tears will do you good. ‘And you, my girl, if you’d been born at all, would have been just what you think you are. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans.
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