She was a very elegant young woman, slightly taller perhaps than her sister, and with an air of reserved strength underneath her quiet face and manner which Annabel may have lacked. Life is two things, that’s how I see it; two things mixed and muddled up together. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors.
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