" He opened his eyes, to behold hers large with wonder. "Why, of hanging the fellow who acts as his jackal; one Blake, or Blueskin, I think he's called. ” Annabel’s hand stole into his. " "Enough!" rejoined Blueskin. “Always planning for death. ” She replied. ” Ennison thought so too half an hour later, when having cut out from one of the bridge tables he settled down for a chat with Annabel. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. But really it is much more than that. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. She leaned back in the cab with half-closed eyes.
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