Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her. "In Canton. ” Annabel’s hand stole into his. Would you tell her … now?" his eyes flaming with mockery. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. ‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright.
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