“You are talking like a boy. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. “What have I done, Miss Pellissier?” he pleaded. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. Always remember that. A time may come,—and that ere long,—when you will be glad to purchase my secrets, and your own safety, at a dearer price than the heads of your companions. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself.
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