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” “And leave you here alone?” he asked, in a hoarse whisper. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. "I would treat him as you treated his father, Sir Rowland. Rollo began to cavort. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. She seemed just as stiff and shy as a girl ought to be, Lady Palsworthy thought, neither garrulous nor unready, and free from nearly all the heavy aggressiveness, the overgrown, overblown quality, the egotism and want of consideration of the typical modern girl.
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