So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life. On searching the coat, he found, amongst other matters, a mask, a key, and a pocket-book. I don’t want any laws or freedoms to protect me from a man like Mr. A. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed. We were expecting rather to find a male antagonist. “Don’t be childish, Annabel. His hair is oddly streaked with gray —I might say a dishonourable gray. .
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