Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. He saw the girl, and sprang up in bed. A male voice, vibrant with terror, yelled out hoarsely. “Never. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. Marry me. Gina, the eleven year old, just couldn’t take it and she ran away. So frightful, indeed, were the ravages of this malady, to which debtors and felons were alike exposed, that its miserable victims were frequently carried out by cart-loads, and thrown into a pit in the burial-ground of Christ-church, without ceremony. You have to see her to understand. Gosse would have killed me, and perhaps in the fight I might kill him. She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. His face will be all I need.
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