His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. Her birthday was four months away, and that, at its extremist point, might give her another five pounds. “Dear me, what a relief! If I had had any nerves that man would have trampled upon them long ago. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. “Do not be frightened, dear,” she said. “I suppose I shall have to write an answer. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. They are tending to congregate, our poor French friends. "We'll see that," replied Jonathan. “I shouldn’t have waited,” she said.
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