” Annabel’s hand stole into his. out of the ten or twelve people one meets in a month not only say but feel and assume a thing, it is very hard not to fall into the belief that the thing is so. Something happened down there, and probably I'll never know what. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. “Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly. He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. ” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. Look at it, I say. The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm.
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