Joyous, she felt the need of physical expression; and her body began to sway sinuously, to glide and turn and twist about the room. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. WE don’t think they’re right, but they don’t think we are. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. They will be safe. "After all our pains we were near losing him, Sir Rowland. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. I am fairly well hardened in iniquity—your iniquity, Annabel—but I decline to have a husband thrust upon me. I’ll announce myself.
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