“Are you going on again this winter with that scientific work of yours? It’s an instance of heredity, I suppose. How on earth does it concern you?” Annabel laughed hardly. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. The young man had knocked over the siphon. Telling the porter that he would attend to the house himself, he bade him go in search of Jack Sheppard. He was in a position to help her.
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