" "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Ann Veronica’s tense nerves started, and she stood still with her eyes upon him, wondering what it might be that impended. “This wonderful affection of yours for my sister, does it date from your first meeting with her in Paris?” He hesitated. ” Annabel rose and followed her sister from the room.
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