She was alone with a deadly enemy. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. Almost light-heartedly. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. She had tasted freedom now, and so far she had not felt the need of protection. But at this, he halted, turning his frowning gaze back on her. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. This is the one movement that brings women of different classes together for a common purpose.
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