I didn't think. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. Not one of them but bore the marks of having been engaged in a recent and severe conflict. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. He might be unfortunate, but he would scarcely be a fool.
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