” Anna glanced momentarily towards her sister, but Annabel neither spoke nor moved. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. They came teeming distressfully through her aching brain: “A man can kick, his skirts don’t tear; A man scores always, everywhere. You don’t understand, Lucy, they just aren’t like that. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear.
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