” He shook his head. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. The tiles lay a foot thick in the road. The young ladies in the somewhat mixed society amongst which he moved neither satisfied his taste nor appealed in any way to his affections. “Annabel at last,” he shouted. Stay! I'll go myself. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. Yet you can look Cheveney in the face and declare that you do not know him.
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