She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly.
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