Her tone was hoarse with passion. I don’t want a family in the suburbs and Christmases at the Florida house and summers at the Hamptons. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger.
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