He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. " The spinster did not ask if the mother lived; the question was inconsequent. A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. Is all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?” she asked, looking round. Boldly he turned the knob of a certain door and entered. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. I hardly see you anymore.
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