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She looked away. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. . No doubt that was due to his helplessness. She nursed at his neck as he peacefully slumbered through being killed. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. Steps to aid the descent, which was too steep to be safe without them, led to, a door on the opposite side. " "Murder him!" cried Trenchard shuddering.
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