Manning. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. ” Her heart had warmed toward him. Do you want me to say anything to him?\" As she suspected, John was connected to everybody. But they would not be denied.
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