‘I don’t propose doing anything with you. He’s riding down the drive. We fixed that. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. Before I sit down, I have a toast to propose, which I am sure will be received, as it deserves to be, with enthusiasm. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up.
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