It was Annabel who caught at the paper. "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant. “Arthur, this is Miss Pellissier—Mr. ” She lingered over her tea, and glancing around, a sudden reflection on the change in her surroundings from the scene of her last night’s supper brought a faint, humorous smile to her lips. "I understand, Sir," replied Davies, drawing a little aside. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon.
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