It was less will than education. It was at breakfast on this day that he told Ruth he had sent to Batavia for some dresses. "Poor thing!" muttered he, as the widow departed on her errand, "she's seen better days and better circumstances than she'll ever see again, I'm sure. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. He stood by her side, and he suffered her hands to rest in his. The young man had knocked over the siphon. She allowed herself to be ejected, therefore, and retired to the parlour after cleansing the blood from her hands and her own slight wound in the kitchen. . . I sha’n’t care a rap if we can never marry.
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