“I hope,” Annabel answered lazily, “that you have succeeded. Sepulchre's. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. They were so good to me. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel.
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