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Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane. He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. “Are you going on again this winter with that scientific work of yours? It’s an instance of heredity, I suppose. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel. She must be beautiful, but beauty is only the beginning. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her.
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