Lady Lescelles, graceful, very fashionably but quietly dressed, leaned back and watched her with shrewd kindly eyes. “My God!” he said at last, with tremendous feeling, and then again, “My God!” Now that this thing was said her mind was clear and calm. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is. You give her a daub here and there where the rust shows. He was inclined to be a good-natured person, and he had no nervous fears of receiving a snub. My name is Annabel, not Anna.
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