” “The only Montague Hill I ever knew,” Annabel said slowly, “is dead. My Mom and Dad were on the brink of divorce, what else is new, they still are. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. Never before had any human being kissed her lips. "It is never too late. It should be the happiest day of your life, and I would not detract from its happiness by letting you remember for a moment that there are others to whom your inevitable decision must bring some pain. “I know nothing about your wife. ‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. “You are the most perfect, the most glorious of created things—tender, frank intellectual, brave, beautiful. “Now I should like to know,” she said, looking at him with a quiet smile, “what you are doing here? It is not a particularly inspiring neighbourhood for walking about by yourself.
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