This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. She was nestled under his bedspread. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. I don’t care.
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