Annabel laughed a little uneasily. ‘Then it is that you will have pity? Here we have come, we poor, for aid. ’ She put in her request for this requirement immediately on returning to the little parlour downstairs, and instantly fell foul of Captain Roding again. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. I should like Mr. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly.
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