For the present the desire to fly was gone. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. What his head conceived his hand executed. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. She might even forgive him. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. ” “Annabel, are you mad? To England! You are joking, of course.
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