It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. The affair passed at one leap from a spree to a nightmare of violence and disgust. “Why not? They tell me that London is impossible till after ten, and I want my first impressions to be favourable. .
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