That is why I would not marry this man whom I did and whom I do care for a little. If Jack should die, all though her fault, she could never forgive herself. “You go home,” he said, at parting; “you go home. It was for ever. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room.
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