He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. "Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine.
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