Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine. You've your own reasons, no doubt, for bringing up her son —perhaps, I ought rather to say your son, Mr. . He himself had deadened the sound by closing the door. There is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words. It was a mass of knick-knacks.
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