All alone; and nobody cared whether he lived or died. . After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. If I were to marry you now I should feel a dependent being all my life—a sort of parasitical creature without blood or muscle.
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