We men are like children. Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. . “Last time I saw you,” he reminded her, “you spoke, did you not, of obtaining some employment in London. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. .
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