He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next moment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head. ‘Soldier of fortune. She was a very elegant young woman, slightly taller perhaps than her sister, and with an air of reserved strength underneath her quiet face and manner which Annabel may have lacked. The night was now profoundly dark. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. Who invented them? Nobody knows. \"Shouldn't you be in bed? You go into work at 5:30, I thought. I myself have had the pleasure of dining with her. I'll forgive him if he does.
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