It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. " The clock tinkled ten. . Anyhow, she’s disappeared for some reason or other. He's had a hard knock somewhere; and until he is strong enough to walk, we must keep his interest away from that thought. She got out of bed, her eyes still half-closed, and stood slack jawed. It appeared highly probable to her that he would stop her allowance. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way.
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