A shudder rippled across his shoulders. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. ” “You have been to her?” he asked. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. ’ Hilary stared. Degree! degree! She smiled on a gallant of high degree.
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