"But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil. "Remember!" cried Quilt, as he forced the captive along. “Yes. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. Charvill’s fury was burning out. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. “But you do not know,” she whispered, “whether I am a married woman or not. Love!” He held her arm and abandoned it again at her quick defensive movement.
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