Her father held some printed document in his hand, and appeared not to observe her entry. I’ve never seen her quite so sure of herself. It was Annabel’s. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. " And, as if to make the moral more obvious, a dirty pack of cards was scattered, underneath, upon the sawdust. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern.
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