But underneath this tolerance there is always the vague hope that your manhood will someday reassert itself. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. Adieu! my charmer. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure.
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