Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. Wood, with a look meant to reduce her supposed rival to the dust. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. But all this business has driven it clean out of my head. Wild on his guard against an assassin.
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