“Indeed,” she said, “it was very fortunate that I should have met you this afternoon. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. Sheppard. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her.
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