At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. “You frighten me!” He smiled at her indulgently. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. She battled with a deadly faintness, and she tottered rather than walked back to her seat. ‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms.
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