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Wood. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. Listen to me, Winifred. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. Finally she decided upon a step that had always seemed reasonable to her, but that hitherto she had, from motives too faint for her to formulate, refrained from taking.
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