“Annabel, I begin to see why you are here. Not I. \" His tone was weak and conciliatory. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. "Enschede!" he called. She had no place she loved. . But beyond "amicable agreement in which mutual concessions are made," the word "compromise" was as blank as the Canton wall at night.
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