The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. I could not hear his heart beat. “I remember when you walked me home. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. Some doting parent had taught him well. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped.
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