It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. " "And have my escapes really made so much noise as to reach the ear of royalty?" mused Jack. ” “Annabel is a prophetess,” he declared. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. " "Of course—of course," returned Wood, hastily; "anything's better than that. He stole his chance and thrust his hand towards hers. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. Lucy sat beside him.
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