It was for ever. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. The lady looked them over in silence, and then pouting lips trembled, dark eyelashes fluttered, and in a broken voice, she pleaded, ‘Honoured messieurs, you will not allow this—this pig, to be thus cruel? He cannot arrest me. “Bother it all!” she swore. Anyway, I only smoke occasionally. The two aunts of these young ladies lived for many years in the dower house upon my estate in Hampshire. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know.
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