“I am. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. ’ ‘But I have told you not,’ she protested. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. They turned the last corner, and almost immediately a man who had been standing there turned and struck Ennison a violent blow on the cheek. "Thank you," she said, and left the office. "While I live you are safe," rejoined Trenchard; "after my death I can answer for nothing.
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