‘The general himself?’ ‘How shall I get my inheritance if the general will believe that pig?’ ‘Do wish you wouldn’t keep on calling him a pig,’ Martha begged. John eased off. “You are in trouble,” he said. From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. I’m six hundred and forty-eight years old, John! I should have never seduced a young boy, let alone expected him to keep my secrets for me.
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