" "Not before I have conducted your child thither," retorted Jonathan, with a withering look. Anna came back into the sitting-room with a little sigh of relief. " Enschede stepped into the proa, and the natives shoved off. . The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. She found herself talking to Capes in an undertone of rational admission. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. “Annabel, I begin to see why you are here.
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