You wanted to play a lone hand. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. " "Right," answered Ireton. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. ” “One may do both,” said Ann Veronica. It was hard to associate her with the stories which he and all Paris had heard of “Alcide.
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