Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. They used the rope—not that a rope was at all necessary, but because Ann Veronica’s exalted state of mind made the fact of the rope agreeably symbolical; and, anyhow, it did insure a joint death in the event of some remotely possibly mischance. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. Yesterday this glorious creature had loved him; to-day she was only friendly.
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