"Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland. Obeying some fine instinct, she had come to the prison in a dark veil, but she had pushed this up to kiss Ann Veronica and never drawn it down again. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. Annabel saw it, and suddenly changed her tone.
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