Always as black and bitter as gall. “What of her? Have you quarrelled with her?” The girl shook her head. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. She had never had a real doll. From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. Please to release me. ” Annabel rose and followed her sister from the room.
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