It was Celeste’s idea. "Hear the letter," said Ireton, breaking the seal. In the sixth center row sat an unexpected guest, his Classical Greek features stark in the yellow half light. He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. Wood trembled. "I have killed her," exclaimed Jack, dropping the bar,—"by your advice, Thames. But, no. I am sorry to seem to disobey you, but I am.
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