Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. Who was he?” “Intriguing. “Annabel,” she said, “I have never asked you for your confidence. ” She raked into the fire with the poker. Then she took her sister’s hand. He grunted, and his grip gave.
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