Spurlock relaxed, suddenly, and sank deeply into his pillows. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. When she came to, she was lying with her head in Martha’s lap, and a livid bruise was forming at the point of a raging headache. “Only you are the woman I love, and you are in trouble. You know how those Russian students do? In Russia.
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