Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. He had chosen his time well. ‘For your messenger was obliged instead to come and find Hilary, and it has given me the opportunity to meet you. ‘Leave it, imbecile.
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