The conversation turned towards the subject of the Diedermayer’s many European vacations. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s. ” “How absurd!” Annabel declared. I will go to-night. What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face. It would not have been for her an anomaly to read a love story in which there were no kisses. She had never been to the opera before except as one of a congested mass of people in the cheaper seats, and with backs and heads and women’s hats for the frame of the spectacle; there was by contrast a fine large sense of space and ease in her present position. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad. Mr. The hurricane had now reached its climax. ” Annabel looked at him curiously. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. The great untrodden world was before her still, into which no one can pass alone.
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