The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. "You know not what you do. The perfume was the only one she ever used. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. ” “Well, he was presumptuous,” Annabel remarked, “and he wasn’t nice about it.
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