1. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. “Many nights I have thought of you, Anna. "I'm not particular about rooms. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously. His tone was rough, almost threatening. I ought to have seen—” “It doesn’t matter a rap—if you’re not disposed to resent the—the way I behaved.
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