Annabel! Annabel!” His voice became a shriek. He had this thing for his twin daughters. I always thought Mrs. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman.
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