" "How!" ejaculated Trenchard, starting back and drawing his sword. “I’ll have to pay it. She found her foster father and Mike still awake, playing high stakes UNO at the dimly lit kitchen table. " "Ah! indeed! what's he doing here?" inquired Jack. Her head rose. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable.
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