It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. “Will you come this way,” she said, “into the drawing-room? There is no one there just now. I’m not ashamed—of the things I’m doing. “He knows. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. “Indeed,” she said, “it was very fortunate that I should have met you this afternoon.
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