‘How so?’ he asked, and she noted that he allowed his pistol to dangle a little from his fingers. This time they would call it murder. That was an admission all right. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. Then we can loiter and gossip to our heart’s content. ‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction. I’ve paid for you and helped you, and I’m going to conquer you somehow—if I have to break you to do it. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat.
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