She flew up from her stool and faced the door. "What did you ring for, Sir?" she asked, eyeing the group with astonishment. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. Her head dipped deeply into the current, and she narrowly escaped being swamped. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. ” “Annabel, are you mad? To England! You are joking, of course.
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