She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. “Annabel,” she said slowly, “if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words. That's the way she strikes me. As in all things, so his thoughts came to him deliberately. For a time I didn't know we'd ever find you. She did not have the power of men. She answered slowly.
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