org. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. She felt the warm nearness of his. ” “But I AM anxious,” said Mr.
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