’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. E. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do. Well, I am Nigel Ennison’s sister!” “Oh!” Anna said. Immediately she had spoken of the loose button he knew that henceforth he must show no concern over the disposition of that coat.
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