She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. But I'll call a doctor, since you order it. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. “Lucy, where is your callous? All violinists have calluses on their necks and hands from playing.
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