“Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. “I will not trouble you with any questions about the other occupants of the flats,” Mr. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. "Ah!" exclaimed Sir James. She pushed at the closer of the two soldiers bearing the precious burden.
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