What is it?" "Is there anything I can do?" The idiocy of the question filled him with the craving of laughter. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. While he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and examined the haft. She was, she guessed, close to the library. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms.
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