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"See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. She responded at once, rapping him on the knuckles with her fan. Annabel watched her with wide-open, terrified eyes. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. Beneath two tall elms, whose boughs completely overshadowed the roof, stood Mr. The Goopes were the oddest little couple conceivable, following a fruitarian career upon an upper floor in Theobald’s Road. A pair of long-lashed blue eyes studied them both as she slowly brought her hands down to rest by her sides.
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