He looked no longer at his wife. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. The bridesmaids and pages got rather jumbled in the aisle, and she had an effect of Alice’s white back and sloping shoulders and veiled head receding toward the altar. Turning, she flew for the nearest door. But we smirk a little, I’m afraid, habitually when we talk to you.
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