Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. "No," replied Jonathan, moodily. She wants that and needs it more than anything else in the world. " "I can't. What the devil is the matter, Dunster?” “I beg your pardon, sir,” the man answered, “there is a lady here to see you. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff. Believe me, Anna.
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