” “You have not told me yet,” Annabel said, “how it is that you have dared to personate me. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me. That's the kind, my friend, that always fall soft. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. To use it as a passport to card-tables and gin-bottles! McClintock wasn't having any guests; at any rate, he had not mentioned the fact. She would never return to her father; that resolution was final.
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