Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return. He was halfway across the ballroom, where the dancing had ceased for the musicians to take a well-earned rest, when Roding pounced on him. He was so seldom wrong. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. The ladies were, as usual, very gaily dressed; and as usual, also, had resorted to art to heighten their attractions— From patches, justly placed, they borrow'd graces, And with vermilion lacquer'd o'er their faces.
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