" "What is this to me, Sir?" said Trenchard, cutting him short. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. ” Annabel’s hand stole into his. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. But the current rumblings of internal discontent across the Channel were productive of unease in certain quarters. Mr. I'm going to be frank; we must have a clear understanding. 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.
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