Both had very singular faces; very odd wigs, very much pulled over their brows; and very large cravats, very much raised above their chins. “Did he tell you, Annabel?” “Yes. I think not. 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. “Yes. ’ ‘How can you possibly enquire for her?’ demanded Hilary acidly. “One doesn’t want to turn the whole thing into a mere sex antagonism. ’ Gerald shrugged. Ha! ha! ha!" "Jack!" exclaimed Thames, angrily. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. "Yon's a dear man," said McClintock.
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