“Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. The night was now advancing, and the party began to think of separating. I sat within a few feet of him. Sir Rowland then fell. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. Until that was done a certain experience of life assured him that a girl is a locked coldness against a man’s approach.
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