It is Anna again who stands between me and ruin. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel. She proffered her neck towards him. "You poor child!" said Prudence. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored.
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