Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. "Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business—if you really are privy to the affair——" "We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short. Sir Rowland waved his hand, and the attendant withdrew. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like.
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