. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. You refuse me your confidence. He uttered a deep groan, but said nothing. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her. It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. “You have not feeling enough.
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