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Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. But about his unknown rival he was acutely curious. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. "We shall see. He drew her closer. “I should make sure that he doesn’t try to drive himself home. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. The period of repression was over.
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