“Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. But I'd a mind to try whether you really loved him as much as you pretended. “Don’t be childish, Annabel. It’s on the horse. She reminded him of his linnet, when he gave the bird the freedom of the house: it became filled with a wild gaiety which bordered on madness. She thought of the marvellous beauty of skin, and all the delightfulness of living texture.
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