"A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. This did not tickle his vanity; on the contrary, it enlivened his terror, which is a phase of fascination. . At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. ’ ‘Believe me, she wouldn’t have cared. She had never understood how much knowledge had been kept from her because she was a woman and even began to doubt the methods of the Church, something she never would have dared before. It takes too many years to climb even a step in the social ladder. ” She was in the bedroom by eleven. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. .
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