Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. Ramage—about the forty pounds. And a time will come, Veronica, mark my words, a time will come when you will bless me for my firmness to-night. I do not wish for you to see me feed.
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