“Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. It filled her with indefinable fear. I want to but I cannot! Please accept that!” She yelled. They don’t count, and I don’t care. Martin’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. Ancak hazine, sadece altın ve mücevherlerden ibaret değildi.
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