In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. Nigel Ennison, Annabel. The thought had not even occurred to him. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. After all, his was a pleasant face, and a pleasant voice, and very likely Annabel had behaved badly. Even as she watched, the sweat of weakness began to form on his forehead and under the nether lip. “What else can happen?” asked Miss Miniver, with a little weak gesture at the glow.
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