He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. “You go home,” he said, at parting; “you go home. 6. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. .
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