"Anything else?" "Your waistcoat. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. She’ll tell everyone soon, if only to gain herself some attention!” He cried under his breath. ” “There was no need for such heroism,” Annabel said coldly.
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