Annabel, I was lying. When other kids got sick at school, they always had Moms who would rescue them within minutes. She fought him with tooth and nail. That—that isn’t living! You are beside yourself. But this was but a momentary gleam of personal application, and at this time she followed it up no further. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing.
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