She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. ” “For the others,” Annabel said tearfully, “that is well enough. Manning?” she asked. She twanged the catgut under her fingers. That’s one thing clear. An old woman took her in. ‘And what is it you’re to rescue her from, I should like to know. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated.
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