After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. . You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. Annabel Pellissier was not like the others, he said. I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. “She cannot be aware,” he continued, “that she is making herself conspicuous.
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