" "Of course," rejoined Kneebone, a little maliciously, "but that's easily accounted for. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. I will arise myself. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way.
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