” He shook his head. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. I have been in torment all the while to know whether it was to Anna or to Annabel that you were making love so charmingly.
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