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Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. “But you do not know,” she whispered, “whether I am a married woman or not. “What do you mean, hanging round with my wife?” he answered fiercely. ‘Then it is that you will have pity? Here we have come, we poor, for aid. He is coming here to tea. She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind. I want to do something.
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