He talked very little and rather absently. ‘I only wish I might have won her confidence. Sheppard. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. When she spoke, her lips twitched. They agreed to lend her their hold-all and a large, formless bag which they called the communal trunk. But, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman. " CHAPTER VI. .
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