" He did not reply. She wished her father and aunt would not enjoy their dinner with such quiet determination. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. ” “Eh?” “I’ve forgotten something. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. "And you have seen … drunken men?" Prudence's tones were full of suppressed horror. "I'm a detective; my ears and eyes have been trained to absorb all I see and all I hear. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. "What in the world is it?" he asked. But I don’t want to. "Did you write it?" "No. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side.
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