He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. ‘You’ll make shadows. Love, obliterated, annihilated; out of his heart and out of his Bible. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. I know how bad it feels. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. “How are you feeling?” She asked. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window.
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