There was something very wrong. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. She stood face to face with him, and his voice cut across her speech and made her stop abruptly. She looked up quickly. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. The confirmed drunkard's mouth at length sets itself peculiarly; it becomes the mark by which thoughtful men know him. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent.
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