She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. I feel almost inclined to regret the fact. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. A crisis of some kind was toward. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study.
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