She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. " "None whatever," replied the mob. I am out of your life forever, never having been in it. I think that I am a little disappointed in you. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. Not I. ” They hesitated. Rattles were sprung; lanterns lighted, and hoisted at the end of poles; windows thrown open; doors unbarred; and, as if by magic, the street was instantaneously filled with a crowd of persons of both sexes, armed with such weapons as came most readily to hand, and dressed in such garments as could be most easily slipped on. “Further than that, I am amazed that you should dare to allude to those few moments, to that single moment of folly. ’ ‘To you,’ she said angrily. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky.
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