’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol. " All day long the phrase interpolated her thoughts. Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. But it is my fault.
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