“He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered. " "Stand off, Sir!" exclaimed Trenchard, starting suddenly backwards. Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard. “A new admirer, Annabel? But what has that to do with your going to England?” “Everything! He is Sir John Ferringhall—very stupid, very respectable, very egotistical. Even your family. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. He had grabbed her in the stream, embracing her naked body tightly, running his hands over her breasts and clutching her buttocks. ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. She held out her arm straight before her, and turned her hand this way and that.
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