” She shivered. "Remove him to the Middle Stone Hold,—watch over him night and day, do you mind?" "I do, Sir. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. “My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. ‘I can answer that. ” Annabel laughed derisively and took up her book. "What of her?" cried the knight. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. "Well, if you won't come, I shall help myself, and that's unsociable," pursued the speaker, evidently, from the noise he made, suiting the action to the word.
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