“You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. You are infatuated. What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now. " "Treated you like a white man there, did they?" "Like a gentleman. “Indeed!” Anna answered indifferently.
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