"Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. I thought one had only to take it by the throat. I am fairly well hardened in iniquity—your iniquity, Annabel—but I decline to have a husband thrust upon me. She had been to San Francisco, and what I learned about the world was from her. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. She would just have to show up and hope for the best.
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