She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. ’ ‘Perfectly correct, my boy. A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind. “Well!” she declared good-humouredly. ” She said.
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