He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. "Take it," cried Wood, holding the infant towards her; "take it, and fly. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. I told her it was the end. Sheppard, fervently. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom.
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