He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. “But I—I went to Nigel Ennison for help. You’re mine. ” She muttered some unlady-like comment upon herself under her breath and engaged in secret additions. That wrappered life, as you call it—we’ve burned the confounded rags! Danced out of it! We’re stark!” “Stark!” echoed Ann Veronica.
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