Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance. ‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. " "Better she die by her own hand, than by that monster's," cried Jack, brandishing the bar. "To be lonely! What is physical torture, if someone who loves you is nigh? But to be alone … as I am!… yes, and as you are! Oh, you haven't told me, but I can see with half an eye. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. I am apparently a beast, a pig and an imbecile, too, if memory serves me. “What did you say?” “Well, I considered myself justified in denying it,” Anna answered drily.
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