” Courtlaw was alarmed at the man’s pallor. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. ‘Then mayhap this will persuade you!’ With a scrape of steel, he drew his sword from its scabbard. Sheila, a normally sound sleeper, woke one night to find both her husband and her foster daughter had snuck from their beds, and this infuriated her. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on.
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