“I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. Detention was merry for the other detainees. The clever hostess having let fall that several distinguished guests from France would be present, the world had flocked to her doors to catch, like the gossip-hungry vultures they were, a glimpse of them. My name is Annabel, not Anna. I MUST. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other.
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