I’m sorry I ruined dinner. There's something queer about that young man; but we'll never be able to find out what it is. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. Loneliness. The storm burst upon them in its fury.
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