She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. "Very well, Mr. ” “Annabel, are you mad? To England! You are joking, of course. ” The figure of her aunt, a little distant, a little propitiatory, behind the coffee things, filled her with a sense of almost catastrophic adventure. But the offences I have committed are venial in comparison with what I should commit were I to wed your father.
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