‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind. “Perhaps one talks nonsense about a woman’s instinct,” she said. “Annabel?” he exclaimed. Some automaton within her produced in a quite unfamiliar voice the remark, “They’re playing football. She has married some one he could not approve of, and gone right away. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. Gianfrancesco’s had curved differently and was darker. After all, she was a consummate actress.
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