Well, what about it?" "I accept. ” Anna shook her head. . Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. The Wastrel did not relish this. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. “I wondered. ” She looked at him quizzically. Spurlock looked up.
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