" While this order was obeyed, Figg, who had been standing near the door, made his way to the prisoner, and offered him his huge hand, which Jack warmly grasped. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. He pumped as she raised her legs obediently.
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