The Closing Scene. Sheppard, faintly. Double-crossing wouldn't do any good. On the orders of Mr Jarvis, that were. It was rude and disrespectful to raise her eyes to him, her mother had warned. Profligate women are never reclaimed. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. She had very few clear memories before a particular day in the library, when they had finished one of her first reading lessons. “But, my dear!” said Ann Veronica’s aunt. Annabel entered. I have always hated it. Keep his arms down.
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