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‘In fact you admitted only that you had no more weapons. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. She evolved a dim image of herself cooped up in a house under the benevolent shadow of Mr. Wood at Dollis Hill, was assaulted and half-killed by a party of ruffians, headed, he swore, by Mr. "Jonathan has threatened to do her some mischief. "Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone of one who admits he has been in the wrong; "your explanation is perfectly satisfactory.
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