Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. “Every one raves about her,” Lady Angela continued. We got your message, but you never stay out this late. Everything was blurred. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected them both. He knew she would be there, practicing alone in 118. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it.
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