Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. “Was it terrible for you after he died?” “Don’t worry yourself about it John. ’ ‘Precisely. " Spurlock turned his dull eyes and tried to focus hers. To disillusion her, forthwith. She seemed to be making some sort of inventory. The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river. “You’ve interested me enormously. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now.
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