Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. Only she hadn’t. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. Very doubtful. “I’ll tell them how much you enjoyed dinner, it would give me great pleasure to tell them that. "But are you really there?" "No, I'm here," answered Jack, leaping down.
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