His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. ‘Don’t fob me off, boy. The fates are never so kind to me. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. But I never seen Mr Charvill, and when the Frenchie come out, I followed him again, like you told me. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet.
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