" "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. By the time she arrived at the Beck’s doorstep, the morning was risen. —"As Rowland's whole crew perished in the tempest, and he only escaped by miracle, he fancied himself free from detection. It is the same with animals. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. The ruse succeeded almost beyond his expectation. He did not play golf, but took his exercise on horseback, which was also unsympathetic. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later.
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