She’s got a great imagination. She forced herself not to think of John. Nothing has been touched since. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. “I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders.
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