. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. “Don’t think that I have been playing the spy upon you,” he continued. Bottles and glasses usurped the place of dishes and plates. Will you?” She thought, and it seemed to him she had never looked so self-disciplined and deliberate and beautiful. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one.
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