G. Annabel was in hiding all the time. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. All these things spoke of peace;—but there are seasons when the pleasantest external influences have a depressing effect on the mind, by painfully recalling past happiness.
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