"Arrest!" vociferated Wood. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. I had a hard fight to begin with to win my way into the Upper Division—I was third on a list of fortyseven—and since then I have found myself promoted almost yearly in a widening sphere of social service. “Thanks, I’m not very fond of coffee,” Anna answered, “and I hate music.
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