The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. ” Ennison thought so too half an hour later, when having cut out from one of the bridge tables he settled down for a chat with Annabel. I studied violin with a teacher when I was younger,” she said.
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