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He gave an order, the proa was floated and the sail run up. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. "This your regular business?" "For the present. Yet even now there were so many things untouched, so much to be learned. “I’ve been thinking of you all night,” she answered. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own. “But I still think of my old foster brothers and sisters.
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