Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. After all, she only LOOKED a woman. It was very much like a real house, with one central stalagmite that looked like a column and a waterfall that served when she wanted to bathe. " "All right. “I say!” he said, without any movement. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. "I knew it. He seemed resigned but cheerful, and held frequent and serious discourses with the ordinary, who felt satisfied of his sincere penitence.
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