My name is Annabel, not Anna. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. Fool that I was to marry for beauty! I ought to have remembered that a fair woman and a slashed gown always find some nail in the way. But it’s love you should’ve had when you were tiny and I didn’t give it to you. “Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered.
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