So long as she could remember, her father had never permitted her to sit at the table unless she came fully dressed. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. ” “Of how beautiful my children would be?” He finished her sentence. “I fail to see the joke,” Sir John said. Immediately a feathered hat emerged, under which a familiar countenance was visible. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. So the talk went on.
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