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“Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. "The end is the most beautiful in English literature. You shall swing for this after next sessions, or my name's not Jonathan Wild. But it was of vital importance to Melusine, and Gerald felt he must pursue it. The perception of him flooded her being. At least here she was safe. He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly.
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