It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. This was irregular. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. And yet the secondary emotion was one of suspicion. “Nothing can cheer me,” he said, “except champagne. So she approached him with sandwiches. A third that joined this to the chambers at the front of the house. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped.
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