She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence. ‘If it is that your men there are going to arrest us, then why do they not do so?’ ‘Left to myself, I’d let them,’ he replied grimly. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. But tell her this, too. "There is a man in this room who seeks my life.
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