‘There is no question of a dispute. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. Well, I don't blame you on that ground. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. ’ ‘No. ’ He could just see the glare. She gained her room, and slammed her door and locked it as though she feared violence and pursuit.
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