Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair. “I love your sister. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. To receive him here afterwards would be most repugnant to me. .
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