‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. Was he your natural father? Did you know him?” “No, I didn’t. She looked stealthily at Anna. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. The men have never had so much work to do since they banded. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it.
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