She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. Sir John saw it, and was flattered. Ennison, or any other young man. It was Annabel who spoke. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little. A kind but hard looking female officer named Rose took her into a room and sat her down at a small wooden table. CHAPTER VII.
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