” “All right. ” She glanced at Brendon, who stood by her side, tall and threatening. She was finally dead, going to Hell. She yielded it without protest, as though unconsciously. “Well——” She stopped short. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. "What ho!" he cried slapping Smith, who had fallen asleep with the brandybottle in his grasp, upon the shoulder.
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