“It’s a nice holiday. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. ” “Oh, you are strong and brave,” Annabel murmured. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. ” He said.
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