"What did you do?" he asked, in a broken voice. “It’s magnificent!” He leaned back and regarded her with his head a little on one side. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. ” Annabel’s hand stole into his. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead.
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