She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. My goodness gracious. Wood. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair. Ann Veronica felt no repulsion at the prospect. ” “Straight?” “Not a bit of it! He’s been out after eight per cent.
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