” Mr. ” Obediently, Lucy placed the stone upon the mausoleum. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. " "Where's Mr. People always rejoice at the misfortunes of others—never at their own! The droll dogs! how they must have enjoyed it!—ha! ha!" "I dare say they did. “I’ve been thinking of you all night,” she answered. ” He left the room, and she stood motionless, with flaming cheeks, listening to his retreating footsteps. “Yes.
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