It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. Manning’s handwriting, and opened his letter and read some lines before its import appeared. “What have I done, Miss Pellissier?” he pleaded. It’s got to be at last like tobacco-ash over all my sayings and doings.
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