Is all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?” she asked, looking round. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble. A doubt as to your dinner to-morrow would make you miserable to-night. She felt terrible lying to him. While he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and examined the haft. God help me. But, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman. ” She shook her head. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. " "By the way, did you read those stories?" "Yes. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had.
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