He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. The proposal is so far from being exorbitant, that it should be trebled if I had not a fellow-feeling in the cause. Wood's ear, whispered, "secret agents from France—you understand—friends to the cause—hem!" "I see,—persons of rank!" Mr. I rarely set foot in London these days.
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