Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. ” “You mean to say,” Anna said slowly, “that you are going to leave your husband?” “Yes. Anywhere! Moonlight and music—pleasing, you know, but quite unnecessary. ” “Annabel is a prophetess,” he declared.
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