Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. "Here we part,—perhaps for ever. They were sounding more and more like Civic every day. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. ‘You are too shrewd for me, ma’am. “My dear Anna! As though I should think of depressing you with my long list of misdeeds. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight.
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