He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. Further on, there were impressions of bloody footsteps along the floor. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. Prudence? Mr Remenham’s sister that was. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. Men have seen to that. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself.
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