It was as if he could smell it on her. “It is strange that we should have met Annabel,” she said. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. “Why should it matter?” he said. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. For this three weeks had been the hardest of her life. . "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. “That he should be in the same world with me!” said Ann Veronica, reduced to reading the list of good things the British Tea-Table Company had priced for its patrons.
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