But that possibility had been anticipated. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. “I can’t imagine it,” said Miss Miniver. ” And she pressed her lips together in white resolution and nodded, and she was manifestly full of that same passion for conflict and selfsacrifice that has given the world martyrs since the beginning of things. ” “Why did you tell me? I thought—I thought we were going to be friends. " "Sir Rowland Trenchard!" echoed Jack, in amazement. " "It's mine, I'll be sworn," rejoined Wood.
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