‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. " And seizing her by the hair, he pulled back her head, and drew the knife with all his force across her throat. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. "Fifty now and fifty when I return.
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