That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. “I hope,” Annabel answered lazily, “that you have succeeded. Gone were the old days where an old maid banged on an upright piano above a roaring crowd, this sound was loud enough to be heard outside the building, she thought to herself as her eardrums throbbed. Something, then, to appease the wrath of God; something to blunt this persistent agony.
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