The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. If a certain kink in your sense of honour will not permit you to go to her as a lover, go to her as a comrade. She had gained respect all about town with news of her fine marriage, and her reputation as a beauty was expanding. “So it seems that I was wrong. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought Jack must have given him the slip. What about them?” He called a hansom.
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