There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. “A claim,” he continued, “which I am quite prepared to recognize. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. Just what in the world was that about? Before he could hazard a guess, Lucy looked back at him. ” “She has changed a good deal,” Anna admitted.
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