He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. ‘How dull it must have been for you, poor little one. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. She had behaved in every way perfectly.
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