’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. She confided in me yesterday. Of all the amazing coincidences. "I don't believe McClintock would have gone into convulsions at the sight of it.
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