She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. I wouldn’t even have to use very much gasoline. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. "I mean to have no one but yourself in it. Diable.
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