"I would sacrifice all my fortune—all my hopes —to liberate him. ‘Give me that!’ He took his finger away from her neck and made a grab at the handkerchief. And all to satisfy a succession of rapacious lightskirts. ” “There was no need for such heroism,” Annabel said coldly. Then enter Mr. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. " "Surely, you haven't stolen it?" "Stolen's an awkward word. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it.
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