’ Gerald raised his brows. He stepped in with a heavy foreboding of calamity. There's a man dying—Captain Darrell. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. "But be prudent, my angel. . " "I don't care if he is," rejoined Thames, boldly. She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. “Thank you.
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