Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. There's nothing on the card to indicate it, but I'm a detective. I can’t even make myself care. And I don’t. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers.
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