’ ‘Not until you release that dagger. But there was nothing in her bearing that a passer-by would have noted, to tell of the excitement that possessed her. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. She was dressed in one of those complicated dresses that are all lace and work and confused patternings of black and purple and cream about the body, and she was in many ways a younger feminine version of the same theme as himself. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum.
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