" "The link of the chain next the staple is sawn through," said Ireton, stooping to examine Blueskin's fetters. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. He had recently made Mr. Sheppard, with a frenzied laugh.
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