Mr. Annabel, I cannot believe it. Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. She wanted to kiss his feet. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. ” “You have not told me yet,” Annabel said, “how it is that you have dared to personate me. He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back.
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