‘I knew you would be furious. Annabel Pellissier was not like the others, he said. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. ‘You escape from your own convent, at great personal danger. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. “You are going to treat me as though I wasn’t. “Bother!” and decided that this was not so, and would not look to right or left again.
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