Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand. "We shall meet again ere long, my son," cried Mrs. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition. There was every indication that she fled the island in company with a dissolute rogue. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. There was no one else in the doorway. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd.
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