That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. ‘It does not matter to me if he comes or no, madame. ’ ‘Gracious heaven, Gerald! If your dear mama could not drag you to the altar, I am hardly likely to succeed.
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