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"I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. ” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. He was officially in the nun’s employ, but Melusine had commandeered his services immediately on the discovery that he had conceived a passion for her. And now the fiend Gosse had taken even that away from her. Pitt endeavoured to dissuade him from attending in person, representing the great risk he would incur from the mob, which was certain to be assembled. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right.
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