It was Annabel’s. " "We shall expect you to-morrow," insinuated Mrs. . “I’m sorry Mister McCloskey! I was out seeing my boyfriend!” He stared at her concernedly. " "Surely, you haven't stolen it?" "Stolen's an awkward word. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. Remember what the conjuror said. His manner, however, was as stern and haughty as ever, and his glances retained their accustomed fire.
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