His exploits and escapes are in every body's mouth. His natal burr was always in evidence when he was sentimentally affected. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. Playing with one hand he turned on his stool to glance at her. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. At the same time, I must say that I am most anxious to improve my acquaintance with her. I wonder.
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