But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. She backed away from him. "It only leads to the fencing crib," replied Wild. You called her a wanton!" "Because I had every reason to believe she was one. The Supper at Mr.
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