“It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head. But I said I wouldn't drive a hard bargain with you, and I won't. I hate what I have to do to survive. You'll live to hate chicken; and the man in you will rise up and demand strong drink. “I can assure you that it was quite unnecessary. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. “I know. And Mrs. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure.
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