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He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. But on Sunday he had been obliged to attend to certain matters for the nuns. Daughters were not like sons. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. You act your part capitally, but it won't do.
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