” “Well, he was presumptuous,” Annabel remarked, “and he wasn’t nice about it. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. “What have I done, Miss Pellissier?” he pleaded. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. "What has happened?" Ruth asked.
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