“I don’t love him,” said Ann Veronica, getting a gleam. “What do you mean, Annabel? You only knew Mr. “Splendid you are looking to-day, Miss Stanley,” he said. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. When he could find words, he tried by the most urgent solicitations to prevail upon the constable to let him out. “Annabel!” she exclaimed.
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