Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. ’ ‘But I am not stopping you from carrying on your business. . . The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. A feeling of inexplicable awe crept over the carpenter as the sounds died away. “In self-defence I had to,” she answered. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did.
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