Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a very scanty lunch. ‘This is altogether insupportable!’ She dug a hand into the recesses of the petticoat of her riding habit and a moment later Gerald found himself once again confronting the barrel of her overlarge and tarnished pistol. David Courtlaw. It was her past now, not Annabel’s.
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