“In five minutes I shall be ready. How I wish I might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. " A moment afterwards, they quitted the house. Annabel had been here then. As Spurlock called her name, she paused and turned. His tie had demanded a struggle; he ought to have taken a clean one after his first failure. Her attenuated arms were crossed upon her breast; and her black brows and eyelashes contrasted fearfully with the livid whiteness of her skin.
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