A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. Some day I may forgive you; but not now.
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