“Who are you?” She asked innocently. ’ She bit her lip, frowning. ‘He wanted me also to run away with him, and I wish very much that I had done so. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. Jonathan's wicked threat is fulfilled at last. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel.
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