It was her past now, not Annabel’s. "And, may I be cursed if I ever did anything in my whole life which gave me so much satisfaction. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. Anyhow he confessed that he was a fraud. The general did what he might to hush it up, and paid handsomely to manage it, I daresay. . . Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream.
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