It presented itself in the likeness of a great, gray, dull world—a brutal, superstitious, confused, and wrong-headed world, that hurt people and limited people unaccountably. “My dear,” she said, when she could get her breath, “you must come home at once. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. God help me. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it.
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