Mrs Sindlesham’s wrinkled cheek had paled, and her eyes were fixed upon Gerald in a look that wrung his heart. Rousing himself, he went to the door. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. " "Ah," said Spurlock; "that kind of a man. The place for reading. The tiles lay a foot thick in the road. I'll dispose of the brat.
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