She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything. “I had a dream in the night,” she said. ” Annabel gave a little gasp. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. These interests her world promptly, through the agency of schoolmistresses, older school-mates, her aunt, and a number of other responsible and authoritative people, assured her she must on no account think about. "Well, Mrs. Pah!’ She flounced about and, crossing to the bed, plonked down on it, pointedly averting her face and resting the large pistol in her lap. She could feel teenage girls from all corners of the room tensing, preparing to shriek. “If you interfere between us,” the man said, “it will go hardly with you. ’ ‘I also said, if you remember, that I could not promise not to do so. Wood could stand it no longer.
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