“Annabel;” he moaned. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking. Ennison paused by the little gate. She rang again with the same result. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. That for the men lay near the Lodge, with which it was connected by a dark passage.
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