” Annabel rose to her feet. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. “Politics!” Ennison answered grimly. Think! Had you not better hurry back before Sir John discovers? You are his wife right enough. "You call in vain," rejoined Thames.
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