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I said to myself, ‘this will come. ” Chapter XVIII ANNABEL AND “ALCIDE” Lady Ferringhall lifted her eyes to the newcomer, and the greeting in them was obviously meant for him alone. That was the true marvel of it. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. You have a daughter, no? Madame Ibstock, I think. The manager had sketched the girl's character, or rather had interpreted it, from the incidents which had happened since dinner.
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