It isn’t. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all.
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