He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. The hills surrounded her cave home protectively. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. Lonesomeness isn't my worry. Two children, who had been caught in the jam-closet: ingratiating smiles, back of which lay doubt and fear. .
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