The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. . ” “You are willing to give up your position, your beautiful houses, your carriages and milliner’s accounts to come back to Bohemianism?” “Why not?” Annabel declared. . She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. ’ ‘Your husband?’ Gerald tutted. Leave me behind: I'm not afraid. I say again, grace à vous. “Stay where you are for a moment,” she directed. ‘Oh, the Frenchie.
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