He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. ‘We may have to,’ Gerald answered thoughtfully, staring at the window to one side. “Annabel;” he moaned. The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work.
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