A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. What right had she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture. "What do you expect to gain from this interview, Mr. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. "Your uncle must protect you. I should never have noticed the miniature at all, if it hadn't been for him.
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